Nashitosh had expected them. St. Denis
and Natchitos were amazed at how quickly they had maneuvered their
way into the woods to the other side of the village before dawn.
The Nashitosh warriors charged the attack. Arrows flew, clubs were
thrown, and rifles fired as chaos consumed the area.
Another party of Acolapissa
warriors ran out of the woods further down the shore to try and
draw warriors from the village so they could fight in the open. The
plan worked and many Nashitosh charged after them in the open. It
was a mighty battle. Blows were struck and arrows pierced the air.
Shots were fired and many men fell to the ground. Natchitos fought
hand to hand against his attacker. Then, he shot him down with a
quick arrow. St. Denis used his rifle and fired at will, trying to
discharge as many rounds as possible but the rifle proved to be
difficult in the humid, thick air. He could not keep the powder dry
in the heat of the battle.
Rain began to
fall on the bloody battleground.
Blood flowed from arms, faces, legs and chests. The rain grew even
heavier and the blood streaked down the bare skin of the warriors
and turned the white uniform shirts of the French a soppy, faded
red. The rifles were now useless in the rain. St. Denis fought hand
to hand combat as well, punching and kicking his attackers. The
battle pushed further and further away from the village and the
fighting continued. Soon, the Nashitosh realized they were being
drawn away from the village purposely. A yell was heard a few
hundred yards away at the village. An Acolapissa warrior emerged
with his bow held high and yelling in triumph. Natchitos spotted
the warrior from a distance. He wiped the blood and sweat that
poured down his face in the pelting rain . “The women! They are drawing us out to take our
women!” he thought to
himself.
“ Lieutenant!” he
yelled towards St. Denis. “We must retreat back to the village. We
must prepare for the next wave!” St. Denis looked about holding a
club he had taken from a fallen warrior. He saw that the enemy was
making its way back to their village. Dead warriors lay all around
the battlefield from both tribes. Some sat on the ground with
terrible wounds. Those not injured helped them to their feet and to
safety.
St. Denis ran
over to Natchitos. “I fear they have dealt us another blow,”
Natchitos said looking towards the village. “We must go back now!” St. Denis understood what
he meant and began to help the other men back toward the tribal
area.
When they finally reached
the village, they quickly ran to the huts. They found them all
deserted. The women and girls had all been taken away during the
battle. They were all gone. “This will not stand!” Natchitos
proclaimed. “We will take them back and die if we must in doing
so!”
They tended to the wounded
and sent braves out to gather the fallen in the battlefield. They
acted quickly for they did not know when the next attack would
occur. St. Denis sat exhausted, but thought hard to determine a way
to return the women to safety. Two hours had passed, but still no
reinforcements had arrived from the fort. He got up and found
Natchitos. “How many warriors do we have that can still fight?” he
asked.
“ We number about
twenty-seven, including you and me,” Natchitos guessed. “We have
lost twelve souls to the battle.”
St. Denis lowered his head in
sadness. He looked up at Natchitos after a few moments and asked,
“How many can you spare to go and retrieve the women? You have
several canoes pulled ashore on the lake, do you not?” Natchitos
nodded. “We can try and beat them at their own game. If they can
surprise us from the woods, we can do the same.”
Natchitos knew what he was
proposing. “We’ll post twenty-one warriors throughout the woods. We
will go deep into the woods and then emerge, scattered in groups of
seven in three different areas outside their village. The other six
will take the canoes out on the lake and then come about
and Natchitos were amazed at how quickly they had maneuvered their
way into the woods to the other side of the village before dawn.
The Nashitosh warriors charged the attack. Arrows flew, clubs were
thrown, and rifles fired as chaos consumed the area.
Another party of Acolapissa
warriors ran out of the woods further down the shore to try and
draw warriors from the village so they could fight in the open. The
plan worked and many Nashitosh charged after them in the open. It
was a mighty battle. Blows were struck and arrows pierced the air.
Shots were fired and many men fell to the ground. Natchitos fought
hand to hand against his attacker. Then, he shot him down with a
quick arrow. St. Denis used his rifle and fired at will, trying to
discharge as many rounds as possible but the rifle proved to be
difficult in the humid, thick air. He could not keep the powder dry
in the heat of the battle.
Rain began to
fall on the bloody battleground.
Blood flowed from arms, faces, legs and chests. The rain grew even
heavier and the blood streaked down the bare skin of the warriors
and turned the white uniform shirts of the French a soppy, faded
red. The rifles were now useless in the rain. St. Denis fought hand
to hand combat as well, punching and kicking his attackers. The
battle pushed further and further away from the village and the
fighting continued. Soon, the Nashitosh realized they were being
drawn away from the village purposely. A yell was heard a few
hundred yards away at the village. An Acolapissa warrior emerged
with his bow held high and yelling in triumph. Natchitos spotted
the warrior from a distance. He wiped the blood and sweat that
poured down his face in the pelting rain . “The women! They are drawing us out to take our
women!” he thought to
himself.
“ Lieutenant!” he
yelled towards St. Denis. “We must retreat back to the village. We
must prepare for the next wave!” St. Denis looked about holding a
club he had taken from a fallen warrior. He saw that the enemy was
making its way back to their village. Dead warriors lay all around
the battlefield from both tribes. Some sat on the ground with
terrible wounds. Those not injured helped them to their feet and to
safety.
St. Denis ran
over to Natchitos. “I fear they have dealt us another blow,”
Natchitos said looking towards the village. “We must go back now!” St. Denis understood what
he meant and began to help the other men back toward the tribal
area.
When they finally reached
the village, they quickly ran to the huts. They found them all
deserted. The women and girls had all been taken away during the
battle. They were all gone. “This will not stand!” Natchitos
proclaimed. “We will take them back and die if we must in doing
so!”
They tended to the wounded
and sent braves out to gather the fallen in the battlefield. They
acted quickly for they did not know when the next attack would
occur. St. Denis sat exhausted, but thought hard to determine a way
to return the women to safety. Two hours had passed, but still no
reinforcements had arrived from the fort. He got up and found
Natchitos. “How many warriors do we have that can still fight?” he
asked.
“ We number about
twenty-seven, including you and me,” Natchitos guessed. “We have
lost twelve souls to the battle.”
St. Denis lowered his head in
sadness. He looked up at Natchitos after a few moments and asked,
“How many can you spare to go and retrieve the women? You have
several canoes pulled ashore on the lake, do you not?” Natchitos
nodded. “We can try and beat them at their own game. If they can
surprise us from the woods, we can do the same.”
Natchitos knew what he was
proposing. “We’ll post twenty-one warriors throughout the woods. We
will go deep into the woods and then emerge, scattered in groups of
seven in three different areas outside their village. The other six
will take the canoes out on the lake and then come about
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