Legend upon the Cane (3 page)

“
Greetings to you, Bride
les Boeufs,” Natchitos said in his own language. The man did not
understand and turned to see Bride les Boeufs, which means Buffalo
Tamer, now standing in the raft behind him. It was the Indian guide
in the raft along with them.

“
Hello my old friend,”
Buffalo Tamer said. He hopped off the raft and walked straight up
to Natchitos with a smile. “I ask for your grace and kindness to
welcome these men. We have traveled down from the Yatasi. They have
entrusted me as their guide.”

“
The Yatasi? Smart they are
to employ you, my good friend. You are the best tracker I know,”
Natchitos said. They clasped their right arms together in the
traditional greeting. “Why are the whites here? Can you make the
white talk?”

Just then, the white man standing behind
Buffalo Tamer spoke up. “I am Lieutenant Louis Juchereau de St.
Denis. I come in peace in the name of Louis XIV, King of
France.”

Buffalo Tamer looked back at St. Denis with
a scowling expression. It was not yet the time for him to speak to
the chief. But he knew that the white leader always seemed to speak
out of turn. He shook his head and allowed him to continue.

“
I and my companions humbly
present ourselves before you and offer our friendship,” St. Denis
said. Buffalo Tamer translated St. Denis’ words to
Natchitos.

Natchitos replied, “If your desire is to
visit our land in peace, then we accept your presence here.”
Tooantuh gave Natchitos a frown. He never liked the way Natchitos
accepted strangers in their land so easily. “But, I do not know of
this France of which you speak. Why have you come here?”

“
We have come from the
Yatasi tribe, where, with the aid of Buffalo Tamer, we have
established an agreement to trade with them,” St. Denis continued.
“We are hoping to do the same with you. We have goods to trade with
you and have different methods of raising crops that we can show
you. In return, all we ask is to be able to live upon your land for
only a short period of time. We only wish to live in peace
alongside you.”

Natchitos listened to his
words with a perplexed look upon his face. “
Why now?
” he thought to
himself.
“And why would the Yatasi make
agreements with this man?”
He pulled
Buffalo Tamer to the side. “Buffalo Tamer, what do you think of
this man? Can he and these other soldiers be trusted?”

“
He’s a good man,” Buffalo
Tamer replied. “They have treated me well and have done all the
things that they have spoken to among the Yatasi. I believe his
heart is a good one. We were only among the Yatasi for two weeks
before coming down the Cane.”

Natchitos grew silent and thought longer
about what Buffalo Tamer was saying. It seemed to him that it would
take much longer than just two weeks time to make an agreement with
the Yatasi. What was it about this white man that was so
trustworthy?

Buffalo Tamer broke the silence. “He is a
good man, but he talks too much.” Natchitos gave him a coy
grin.

The soldiers began to step off the rafts.
Tooantuh noticed immediately that the soldiers did indeed have
muskets with them. “Chief,” he whispered to Natchitos, and motioned
towards the soldiers. Natchitos saw the rifles and looked back over
at Tooantuh then back at St. Denis sternly.

Among the six soldiers was a sergeant, Henri
LaRouche. He casually barked orders at the other men, with a
satchel over one shoulder and his rifle dangling from his other
hand. “Gather that gear out of those boats! Come on, I don’t have
all day!” He wiped the sweat off his brow, scanning over the tribal
village and the tall trees on both sides of the river. “What the
hell are we doing here?” he muttered to himself.

LaRouche never liked the
natives. And he detested these excursions up and down the rivers
seeking them out and making treaties with them.
nd
He longed to be back in the
comfortable confines of the fort at St. Jean. “
These people are animals,”
he thought
to himself,
“We should be able to take
these lands without question. They could never match the might of
the French Army.”
He stood oft to the side
a few paces from St. Denis, trying to hear what were being said
between the Lieutenant and the Indians. He stared at them intently.
Then he caught Tooantuh’s eye. Tooantuh stared right back at him.
LaRouche’s stare gave him an uncomfortable feeling.

“
How did he convince the
Yatasi so quickly?” Natchitos asked Buffalo Tamer. “They are not so
easily persuaded. I am curious to hear more.”

St. Denis interrupted them,
“I would like to introduce one of my officers and the governor of
the Fort St. Jean. This is
Jean-Baptiste Le Moyne de Bienville
.
He is my trusted friend and leader.”

“
It is my pleasure to meet
you, Sir,” Jean-Baptiste said. “I have heard great things about
you.”

“
I am Natchitos, chief of
the Nashitosh. Welcome to you and your men. This is Tooantuh.
Tonight you will eat with us at the fire.”

St. Denis knew this was a great honor and a
very good sign. He hoped that a good foundation was already being
laid with these people. They went further down the river and set up
camp there.

St. Denis was just over
twenty-five years of age when he began his exploration of
Louisiana. He was born the eleventh of twelve children in Beauport,
New France in 1674, in the area which is now known as Quebec,
Canada. His parents were able to send him to France to further his
education. But in his heart, he was always an explorer. He had
heard stories and read some accounts of the early explorers in the
southern regions of the New World, and he had always wanted to see
them. He returned from France in 1699 and helped settle a fort
along the Mississippi River and one on Biloxi Bay. The former was
Fort St. Jean, which would become New Orleans in 1716. It is where
he first met
Jean-Baptiste Le
Moyne de Bienville.

Jean-Baptiste was impressed
with the young Frenchman and his ability to calmly establish
relationships with the natives. In early 1701, he asked St. Denis
to go on a mission upriver on the Mississippi where he had heard it
was inhabited by many different tribes. The many connecting river
routes further north were key in reaching other areas of
exploration and establishing trade routes. As governor, he wished
to go along on the journey to see this land himself and to make
known that the French explorations were not cursory ones. He
trusted and respected St. Denis deeply, but he was a man that
wanted to know and see things for himself.

“
What do you make
of this Chief Natchitos, Louis? A quiet fellow isn’t he?”
Jean-Baptiste asked.

“
Yes, quiet
indeed,” he replied.
“But be
patient friend. I know he has much more to say. I see wisdom behind
those eyes of his. You know what they say about still waters…still
waters run deep!”

Jean-Baptiste laughed
heartily. “Yes they do, Louis. His friend was even quieter though.
Yet he appeared to be quite fierce. I wouldn’t want to cross his
path,” he quipped. St. Denis chuckled to himself. “How do you think
it will go this evening? Do you think we should we go
back?”

St. Denis looked surprised,
“Of course we should! We’ve been invited. And I have something for
our great chief that might impress him. I think it might take more
than just supplies and tools to win this one over. I sensed an
obvious concern coming forth from both of them. We don’t know how
many they number, so we mustn’t be too casual in our
approach.”

“
But, Buffalo
Tamer said they only number no more than fifty,” responded
Jean-Baptiste.

“
Nevertheless, we
number less than ten, including some men that are, shall we say,
less than enthusiastic to be on this journey,” St. Denis said
matter-of-factly. “I plan to drive some spirit back into these
stubborn men but I feel I must give them leave before doing so.
We’ve been pressing on for many weeks now and with little
rest.”

The sunset was nearing and
camp was setup for the night. St. Denis, Jean-Baptiste and the
soldiers set out back upriver to the tribal village with torch
lights. As they approached the landing, a warrior in ceremonial
headdress, stood along the shore at tension, staring out into the
night, never turning to look at the explorers. He stood with a lit
torch stuck in the ground holding it out with a firm straight
arm.

“
What a
magnificent sight!”
St. Denis
thought to himself. “
This will be
a night to remember.”

The soldiers
pulled the boats ashore and they all stood on the banks near the
warrior, who stood motionless
with little expression on his face.

“
We must wait here,” Buffalo
Tamer said to St. Denis. “We must wait until the tribe’s spirit
guide comes to escort us into the village.” St. Denis understood
well. A few soldiers swatted their arms and necks at the mosquitoes
flying all around the riverside.

“Cursed
bloodsuckers,” Jean-Baptiste swore under his breath as he slapped
the back of his neck for the tenth time, “Leave me in peace!” He
swatted at his neck once more. “They are just as bothersome as they
are down at the fort, eh Louis? They don’t seem to bother this
fellow at all. I wonder what his secret is.”
The warrior seemed to be untouched by all the pesky
mosquitoes. St. Denis leant an unsympathetic smile to his colleague
as he swatted the back of his neck as well.

Then they heard
footsteps coming from within the trees. Out into the clear emerged
an impressive figure, wearing a large ceremonial headdress, with
decorative skins around his waist
that covered the length of his legs. On his chest he wore a
vest of colored beads situated in an intricate design. St. Denis
was astonished to see that the man was Natchitos himself. He stood
motionless, staring into the night sky, as did the warrior standing
guard by the river. Then finally looking over at St. Denis, he said
bluntly, “Come!” They followed him into the trees towards the
village. The warrior remained at his post beside the
river.

As they walked the path
behind the chief, flickers of firelight were visible, and drumbeats
and chants could be heard from the tribal area. The spirit guide
approached an open area where a large fire was burning in the
middle. Surrounding the fire were numbers of grass thatch and mud
covered huts. These were the homes of the Nashitosh Indians. All
the tribesmen and women were dressed in ceremonial dress, sitting
on the ground in small groups as the troupe approached. A small
band of three drummers sat at the right side of the fire, playing a
welcome drumbeat and chanting in unison. It was the traditional
chant given to guests to welcome them to the village.

St. Denis and Jean-Baptiste
looked on in amazement. The soldiers stood behind them with wide
eyes. What an incredible sight! They watched as the performance
continued. Natchitos walked a few steps further to the left side of
the fire and stood next to a woman who had two young children
beside her, and a young man dressed in a feather headdress, no more
than fourteen years of age. It was Anoki, Natchitos’ oldest son.
The woman was his wife, Taima. It was apparent that she was with
child, perhaps six months along. As his feet came to rest beside
her, the drumbeat and chant stopped abruptly.

The French looked on
speechless. They knew the chief was about to speak, so they waited
and watched intently. Natchitos then said, “I am Natchitos, chief!
This is my family, and these are my people. We welcome you to our
village. Tonight we will dance for you in front of this sacred
fire. We dance for rain, and we dance to call the ‘great spirit’ to
give thanks to him. Tonight you will eat with us by the fire.” One
of the women motioned to the visitors to sit in an open spot next
to the chief’s family, a sitting place that had been left open just
for them. The woman was Tooantuh’s wife, Ayita.

Ayita was young and
beautiful, no more than twenty years of age. She was dressed in
brown skins decorated with long strands of colorful beads. The
skins hung from her shoulders and fell down to just above her bare
feet. It was the traditional dress for all the women of the tribe
for such an occasion. Her eyes were dark brown and her hair was
long and black and hung down to the middle of her back, braided in
colorful beads. Her beauty caught the eye of the young soldiers
immediately. LaRouche couldn’t help but stare at her as she passed
in front of them. His eyes followed her as she walked back to her
husband and sat next to him.

The women of the
village had prepared a great feast of wild game, poultry and corn.
St. Denis knew that the past two summers, including this one, had
been harsh all around this part of the country. So he knew that
such a grand meal must be a large sacrifice for these people, yet
they still offer everything so unselfishly.
It should be their honor to accept such a gesture. He
learned this very quickly during his travels through the New World
among the native peoples. But he also knew it would be an even
greater dishonor if they did not accept their offerings of this
meal.

They were given a royal
welcome. As they ate, they watched the first dance given by Ayita
(whose name means, ‘first to dance’). This was the dance for rain.
A member from each family then came up one at a time to perform a
dance for them. The last dance was to call the ‘great spirit’ to
come among them so that they may give thanks to him. It was the
most spectacular dance of them all.