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But of other papers we found none, though there must have been more. Madame Rocheblave was suspected of having hidden some in the inviolable portions of her dress. At length the cocks crowing for day proclaimed the morning, and while yet the blue shadow of the bluff was on the town, Colonel Clark sallied out of the gate and walked abroad.
After dispatching word to General Carleton that he had been compelled to surrender the post to "the self-styled Colonel, Mr. Clark," Rocheblave was sent as a captive to Williamsburg, where he soon broke parole and escaped. His slaves were sold for five hundred pounds, and the money was distributed among the troops.
"Name o' Skene, from Pennsylvanya," said the man, "and by the Lord God ye shall have the fort." "You looked for us?" said Clark. "Faith, never less," said the Pennsylvanian. "The one sentry is at the main gate." "And the governor?" "Rocheblave?" said the Pennsylvanian. "He sleeps yonder in the old Jesuit house in the middle." Clark turned to Tom McChesney, who was at his elbow.
With that they all returned in noisy joy to their families, while the priest, a man of ability and influence, became thenceforth a devoted and effective champion of the American cause. The only person whom Clark treated harshly was M. Rocheblave, the commandant, who, when asked to dinner, responded in very insulting terms.
"Name o' Skene, from Pennsylvanya," said the man, "and by the Lord God ye shall have the fort." "You looked for us?" said Clark. "Faith, never less," said the Pennsylvanian. "The one sentry is at the main gate." "And the governor?" "Rocheblave?" said the Pennsylvanian. "He sleeps yonder in the old Jesuit house in the middle." Clark turned to Tom McChesney, who was at his elbow.
"Nom du diable!" cried the commandant, when his lady's breath was gone, "what does this mean?" "It means, sir," answered Clark, promptly, "that you are my prisoner." "And who are you?" gasped the commandant. "George Rogers Clark, Colonel in the service of the Commonwealth of Virginia." He held out his hand restrainingly, for the furious Monsieur Rocheblave made an attempt to rise.
They told him that the royal commandant was a Frenchman, Rocheblave, whose head-quarters were at the town of Kaskaskia; that the fort was in good repair, the militia were well drilled and in constant readiness to repel attack, while spies were continually watching the Mississippi, and the Indians and the coureurs des bois were warned to be on the look-out for any American force, if the party were discovered in time the hunters believed that the French would undoubtedly gather together instantly to repel them, having been taught to hate and dread the backwoodsmen as more brutal and terrible than any Indians; and in such an event the strength of the works and the superiority of the French in numbers would render the attack very hazardous.
None stirred save the few Indians left in the place, and these were brought before Clark in the fort, sullen and defiant, and put in the guard-house there. And Rocheblave, when he appeared, was no better, and was put back in his house under guard. As for the papers in the despatch box, they revealed I know not what briberies of the savage nations and plans of the English.
Our men filled the little passage, and suddenly we found ourselves in a low-ceiled room in front of a great four-poster bed. And in it, upright, blinking at the light, were two odd Frenchified figures in tasselled nightcaps. Astonishment and anger and fear struggled in the faces of Monsieur de Rocheblave and his lady.
It contains at least this much truth, that the settlement, after being thrown into panic, was quickly and easily taken. Curiously enough, the commandant was a Frenchman, Rocheblave, who had thriftily entered the British service. True to the trust reposed in him, he protested and threatened, but to no avail.
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