loading a canoe just
fifteen yards downstream. He kept his eyes fixed on him as he
worked. Then Tooantuh sensed he was being watched, and he looked up
to see LaRouche staring at him. He stopped what he was doing and
walked a few paces towards LaRouche and stopped.
“ What are you looking at,
Sarge?” asked the young soldier handing him crates. Tooantuh
glanced at Ayita, then back at LaRouche.
“ Nothing soldier, hand me
that crate! Let’s keep it moving!” he shouted. Tooantuh turned back
and climbed into his canoe with Ayita.
The tribe set out and
followed St. Denis, Pénicaut, and the soldiers up a small bayou
towards Lake Pontchartrain. It was no more than an hour’s journey.
St. Denis grew nervous, for he did not know how this encounter with
the Acolapissa would unfold.
The landscape was quite
different to the Nashitosh. There were marshes and bayous all
around. It seemed like you could go anywhere by canoe. There was
more water than there was land. Rains fell more often and the air
was always thick with humidity. As they entered a clearing from the
trees, their eyes widened with amazement. They had come upon the
great lake. They had never seen such a large body of water before.
The lake stretched to the horizon as far as the eye could see.
Gulls flew overhead, a kind of bird which they had never seen
either. Up towards the west shore, a tribal village could be seen.
Many grass and thatch huts and some more modern wooden huts lined
the shore and inland for a few hundred yards. The tribe was
relatively small but the village was widespread.
They went as far as they
could on the bayou, then they unloaded the canoes and began to walk
a short distance. A noise could be heard from the village, as they
had spotted the intruders coming down the shore. Natchitos
instructed his tribe to find a place to sit and wait while he went
to speak to Chief Red Hawk.
Pénicaut knew the language
of the Acolapissa, so he walked along with Natchitos and St. Denis
towards the village. Five Indians approached them from the village,
including Chief Red Hawk. They were all adorned with tattoos on
their arms and chests. Each brave had tattoos that depicted
accomplishments in battle and the type of warrior they were. They
stopped about twenty yards from the two white men and Natchitos.
Chief Red Hawk stood in the middle and raised his right hand
motioning them to stop. They did as he indicated. Pénicaut spoke in
their language, “Greetings to you, Red Hawk, this tribe comes to
you in peace.”
“ Who is this tribe?” asked
Red Hawk. “Why do you bring them to me?” He glared at St. Denis and
Natchitos intently.
“ They are the Nashitosh.
They come from the North and are in need of land in which to live.
We ask if they may share the lands of the lake with you and your
people.” Pénicaut explained. “We have brought offerings to you from
the fort for your trouble.” He pointed towards the boats where the
provisions were stowed. Red Hawk looked past them to see the boats
where LaRouche and the soldiers were unloading the provisions. He
said nothing. Pénicaut instructed the soldiers to bring up the
provisions to where they were standing. St. Denis helped LaRouche
pile them on the ground in front of Red Hawk.
“ We have no need for these
offerings,” Red Hawk said abruptly. “What you ask of me is land and
part of this lake for these strangers to live upon. Why should I
grant you this request?” St. Denis was afraid this would be the
response.
Natchitos then stepped
forward and said to Pénicaut and St. Denis, “Let me speak.” He
walked closer to Red Hawk and stopped in front of him. He knew the
best way to work with another chief was to speak to him directly.
This is what Chief Red Hawk expected all along. Pénicaut and St.
Denis stood a few feet behind and helped translate for
Natchitos.
“ I am Natchitos, chief. My
people have come down from the North,” he explained. “They have
suffered many hardships. We come
fifteen yards downstream. He kept his eyes fixed on him as he
worked. Then Tooantuh sensed he was being watched, and he looked up
to see LaRouche staring at him. He stopped what he was doing and
walked a few paces towards LaRouche and stopped.
“ What are you looking at,
Sarge?” asked the young soldier handing him crates. Tooantuh
glanced at Ayita, then back at LaRouche.
“ Nothing soldier, hand me
that crate! Let’s keep it moving!” he shouted. Tooantuh turned back
and climbed into his canoe with Ayita.
The tribe set out and
followed St. Denis, Pénicaut, and the soldiers up a small bayou
towards Lake Pontchartrain. It was no more than an hour’s journey.
St. Denis grew nervous, for he did not know how this encounter with
the Acolapissa would unfold.
The landscape was quite
different to the Nashitosh. There were marshes and bayous all
around. It seemed like you could go anywhere by canoe. There was
more water than there was land. Rains fell more often and the air
was always thick with humidity. As they entered a clearing from the
trees, their eyes widened with amazement. They had come upon the
great lake. They had never seen such a large body of water before.
The lake stretched to the horizon as far as the eye could see.
Gulls flew overhead, a kind of bird which they had never seen
either. Up towards the west shore, a tribal village could be seen.
Many grass and thatch huts and some more modern wooden huts lined
the shore and inland for a few hundred yards. The tribe was
relatively small but the village was widespread.
They went as far as they
could on the bayou, then they unloaded the canoes and began to walk
a short distance. A noise could be heard from the village, as they
had spotted the intruders coming down the shore. Natchitos
instructed his tribe to find a place to sit and wait while he went
to speak to Chief Red Hawk.
Pénicaut knew the language
of the Acolapissa, so he walked along with Natchitos and St. Denis
towards the village. Five Indians approached them from the village,
including Chief Red Hawk. They were all adorned with tattoos on
their arms and chests. Each brave had tattoos that depicted
accomplishments in battle and the type of warrior they were. They
stopped about twenty yards from the two white men and Natchitos.
Chief Red Hawk stood in the middle and raised his right hand
motioning them to stop. They did as he indicated. Pénicaut spoke in
their language, “Greetings to you, Red Hawk, this tribe comes to
you in peace.”
“ Who is this tribe?” asked
Red Hawk. “Why do you bring them to me?” He glared at St. Denis and
Natchitos intently.
“ They are the Nashitosh.
They come from the North and are in need of land in which to live.
We ask if they may share the lands of the lake with you and your
people.” Pénicaut explained. “We have brought offerings to you from
the fort for your trouble.” He pointed towards the boats where the
provisions were stowed. Red Hawk looked past them to see the boats
where LaRouche and the soldiers were unloading the provisions. He
said nothing. Pénicaut instructed the soldiers to bring up the
provisions to where they were standing. St. Denis helped LaRouche
pile them on the ground in front of Red Hawk.
“ We have no need for these
offerings,” Red Hawk said abruptly. “What you ask of me is land and
part of this lake for these strangers to live upon. Why should I
grant you this request?” St. Denis was afraid this would be the
response.
Natchitos then stepped
forward and said to Pénicaut and St. Denis, “Let me speak.” He
walked closer to Red Hawk and stopped in front of him. He knew the
best way to work with another chief was to speak to him directly.
This is what Chief Red Hawk expected all along. Pénicaut and St.
Denis stood a few feet behind and helped translate for
Natchitos.
“ I am Natchitos, chief. My
people have come down from the North,” he explained. “They have
suffered many hardships. We come
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