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Sunday, October 8

I rendezvoused at Shelving Rock with Pvt. Bill Filkins of Rogers’ Co. of Rangers and Pvt. Abe Price – a volunteer from one of the Maryland companies. We distributed our gear and I, with Private Filkins, paddled one canoe and towed a second, while Private Price came in his own canoe. On the way, we encountered some Dutch traders who informed us that Indians had just left the area of Fort Bear Necessity moving to the north in war paint.

At Fort Bear Necessity, we found the rotten tarp we had abandoned there last year, which Indians allied to France had painted their marks on earlier that day. We were impressed and honored to have received this notice from the Natives and took the tarp with us. Thanks to the collective hands of Mother Nature and the sauvages, Fort Bear Necessity was sadly in ruins, little was left of the walls and firepit. We stashed our supplies and one canoe south of Fort Bear Necessity and headed north in the other two canoes for an afternoon of scouting. We took with us just enough for an overnight stay if necessary.

Making sure to stay out of musket range, we observed the coastline and saw no sign of the French, but Indians called to us from Indian Point/Floyds Point. Hoping that they did not recognize us, we ignored their calls and continued north.

In the afternoon, we carefully scouted around and then landed on Floating Battery Island, on the north side. After a careful search of the island, we saw a bateau in the afternoon sun. She was under sail southward toward Floating Battery, and we guessed it might be La Plague de Ratone—the Plague Rat belonging to the French Commander. We quickly set up to attempt an ambush. Price took off his red coat to display his white shirt, Filkins lit a fire, and remained hidden. As if on queue, Monsieur Med Chandler pulled his bateau up to the island, where we unloaded several muskets and a swivel gun, sinking his boat. There were no survivors.

Having dispatched the French Commander, we left Floating Battery to look at Hatchet, Duran, and Phenita Islands for a place to stay as well as a place to ambush French as they came in from the north. While we were on Hatchet Island, Chandler (resurrected) came sailing southward between Hatchet and Duran, obviously expecting us to have left the area. We fired upon him again, disabling the boat but not sinking it this time. That alerted the Natives, who came by canoe from Indian Point to see what the action was about. If they had stayed grouped together on the eastern side of the island with Long Toe, we would have been able to fend them off. Unfortunately, some of the red devils made their way around to the western side, landed, and pinched us.

Our only hope was to disrupt their attack and when Long Toe drifted to within shooting range, my musket found it’s mark from my small, no-longer-hidden, ambush point.

Much to my dismay, the savages exhibited great organization and tactics, even with howlings from their wounded leader and we were quickly over-run. I was killed in a hail of musket fire while making a run for my canoe. Price was also killed. Filkins shot two of the savages and escaped to his canoe but not before taking a ball through his hand.

After attempting to parley with the Indians on one of the western islands, we returned to Floating Battery in the dark to make camp on the northwest corner for the evening. Rum rations were issued and then we were soon asleep.

Knowing that the island itself afforded some security we laid out our bedrolls and made a small fire down in a depression. The anxiety of feeling very vulnerable with so few of us and being deep in French territory prevented me from sleeping much. I nearly woke the men to make a late night departure to safer territories, but we were here to gather information and this was a great place to do that, if we could just stay alive. Knowing that the enemy was actually camped right on the same island would have significantly increased our odds for success.

Monday, October 9

Monday morning we woke early and were packing up when Pvt Filkins realized his cup was missing—his special hand-made horn cup. He thought it was somewhere around camp but then thought it had to be somewhere from the previous day. We finished packing, loaded canoes, and then paddled to where we first attacked the Plague Rat the previous day on the other side of Floating Battery (northeast corner), but still didn’t find it. While I was waiting in the canoe, around the corner came a gun boat under sail, 30 yards in front of us. We capitulated without firing a shot – we were caught with our pants down.

During a brief parlay to try and save our scalps, we learned that when Med got up early in the morning to visit Mother Nature, he saw some canoes on the other side of the island; he alerted his crew and they quickly came around to find us. We got back in our canoes, dead, and went back to Duran and Hatchet to keep looking for the cup, then headed south.

Pvt. Bill "Cup" Filkins holds up his erstwhile "missing" horn cup Photo courtesy of Wade Stoner

We pulled the canoes up on land about half-way between Indian Point and Black Mountain Point, found a spot where we could still see Floating Battery, and made a fire to cook breakfast. While going through his tack, Filkins found he had had his cup with him all along, and thus the three of us were killed for absolutely nothing. Bill recalled that shortly after his rum rations, he became giddy and packed in his backpack in error.

We finished breakfast and headed south to Shelving Rock to meet up with the forces arriving Monday, with the express purpose of ensuring we would take and hold Commission Point until the majority of our troops came in without getting cut off by the French holding the Point, as happened two years before.

Filkins and Brevet Lt. Chauncey Goodrich canoed with some extra gear, Sgt. John Bauer and Pvt. Bob Albrecht (from Dunn’s Co. of New Jersey Rangers) canoed, and I walked in with raw recruit Dave Herbel (also of Dunn's). We all convened at Commission Point, where Private Price was on guard by himself, except for three swivel guns, two muskets, and a grenade launcher that were keeping him company. While at Commission Point, we were visited by many groups of Dutch traders who were enjoying wine and other beverages in the extraordinarily fine weather. Meanwhile, I put people out on watch around the perimeter and quickly fortified a defensive position on the high ground of the point, in anticipation of French forces coming to camp on the point.

Early afternoon, as expected, the French and Indians appeared in force to establish a base on the point, arriving in two bateau and five canoes. Fortunately, no one came by land, making our defense more effective. The French made several futile attempts to land troops, and both sides fired over the heads of the Dutch traders, who sat agog drinking their wine. The French took heavy fire from the swivel guns and the muskets positioned around the point.

With neither side being able to move the other, I offered to parlay in order to come to terms. Louis Valiquette, of the Troupes de la marine, accepted the offer and leaders from the French, Indian, and British forces sat in a circle together to discuss terms.

The French were allowed to retire with honors (colors), recognizing that the British were capable of holding the point, and they set up camp on the little island directly off of Commission Point, within site of our camp.

French and Indians attacking Commission Point

We lit fires and had dinner, then quietly packed up our gear and loaded the canoes to move under the cover of darkness. About 9pm, Filkins and Goodrich headed north towing a canoe, while Sergeant Bauer and Private Albrecht in their canoe towed Price’s to Black Mountain Point in the shadowy dark—well after sunset but before the moon came up. Meanwhile, Private Herbel from New Jersey, Private Price from the Maryland militia, Pvt. Dave Broach from a New York company of rangers, and I stayed to maintain the appearance of a full camp. We left about an hour or so later and walked to Black Mountain.

Hastily we threw our bedrolls down without establishing a real camp, but we did take the precaution of setting an hourly watch with a small candle near a swivel gun aimed at the best point for landing a boat. At daybreak I sent some of the force out to find a more secure location, leaving a few to defend against a possible attack, even though we really were not expecting an early attack, knowing the lackadaisical attitude of the French in the morning, especially regarding anything like a march, without enjoying the morning cocoa, as we have seen so often in the past. In fact, we had no reason to expect to see them before 10am.

Tuesday, October 10

Cpl. John Bauer of Dunn's Co. at Black Mountain Point

We had guns in place on Black Mountain Point and a barricade prepared, but nevertheless, when the French did show up not long after sunrise, by land no less, we were rotating our guards and thus were caught off-kilter. We managed to make a few hits, and the firing was hot for some time on both sides, but eventually they picked off each of one us, working hard for their inevitable victory. We were outnumbered two or three to one, and in the end were overrun. The victors left with our colors.

Again, we packed up and moved. I ordered the men to cache their gear near the Perch, and went scouting through the woods to the south.

While Private Albrecht stayed on watch at near the Perch, the remainder of Dunn’s went with Lieutenant Goodrich and I to Red Rock while Privates Filkins, Price, and Broach went to scout Fort Bear Necessity. My party discovered that white tents and canoes were still visible on the island off of Commission Point. From the north side of Red Rock, we observed firing between the French on Hazel Island and our men on Fort Bear Necessity point, and we went to join them.

LT Goodrich and I visited the old fort where we found a message left by the Indians specifically for Chauncey Goodrich (which we hadn't noticed when we were there on Sunday). It seems the young LT has made a name for himself amongst the savages. Then we all went down to the water level where the firing was going on. Late in the engagement, Monsieur Soule brought his boat from the island, but couldn’t land with our firing.

On our way off of that point, we bumped into a French patrol who had come to attack us from behind, having heard the firing on the water’s edge. Fortunately for us, we saw them first and we had the high ground. The novice Nathan Marques of the Canadian milice was one of the first casualties after his musket misfired, his young life taken by our equally novice young Private Herbel. Several of us were hit while doing equal damage to the French. Lieutenant Goodrich accounted for one and then took a bullet through the eyes while rising too much above a downed tree he used for cover. Louis Valiquette, commanding the Troupes de la Marine, was the last French standing but was surprised and killed by Private Albrecht who had come down from his spot on watch and caught the enemy from behind. He and the raw recruit held the ground for the British. Young Herbel was instrumental in this battle, and even a French soldier, in his dying breath, commented on his skill. From nearly the beginning, I lay bleeding heavily and observed the battle to the end before expiring.

Following that battle, we went back up to the remains Fort to give the impression that we were camping there (as the enemy had not gotten far enough to see if we were actually at the Fort). We even started a fire to support that impression and stayed there until sunset. I remained behind to make noise and act like we did in fact have a camp while the others made their way back to The Perch, moved their gear up the rocks beyond, to a safer position, and set up camp in the dark.

Wednesday, October 11

Abe Price waits in ambush

We got up early, grabbed a quick cold breakfast, and took up positions around the area. Dunn’s Co. along with Privates Broach and Price went south to set up an ambush uphill from the trail, Goodrich sat on a point at the water to observe any enemy movements by water from either the north or south. Filkins and Price walked north on the main trail to try to scout out the French by land. Shortly after, they spotted two French scouts. As the lead scout got into range, Private Filkins shot him from cover and then realized five more were right behind the lead. Both Filkins and Price ran south with the French hot on their heels. Filkins managed to shoot another while on the run. Price made his way to the ambush site undetected and warned the others while Filkins met up with Goodrich and me.

The LT, Filkins, and I were up on the hill when we ran into a small group of French and engaged them in battle from behind a snaggle of several large trees. Our opposition included the French Commander and two of his crew. They did not know Goodrich was behind the same tree as I, and after one of them fired on me, Goodrich swung out and put a ball right between his eyes. I dispatched the red-coated savage and Filkins surprised them from his location to account for another, clearing the field in this particular skirmish.

We could hear fighting to the south of us and assumed it only be the 55th engaging the French, as all our men were accounted for, so we moved that direction, stopping briefly to collect the others who were waiting patiently in position for an ambush not far from our skirmish site. We pulled everyone away from the road and headed up the side of the mountain and to the south. We stopped just south of Fort Bear Necessity, where we heard noises across the road. I sent Lieutenant Goodrich and Private Filkins to determine what was happening. While they were investigating, two Indian scouts appeared on the trail coming from the north but downhill from us – they apparently didn’t see us up to their left. Both parties were surprised but fortunately we were in a better position with more people and took them both quickly.

Meanwhile, Goodrich and Filkins did not find any French near the water but they did find some of the 55th, and brought them to join our scouting party.

Bob Peterson (standing) and Jim Reilly of the 55th of Foot rest after a good fight with the enemy

Continuing to the south, again up on the hillside, we almost immediately bumped into a large party of French regulars, malice, and their Indian allies. With all the urgency I could muster, I ordered everyone up the hill to gain higher ground, but some of the men (some of the Rangers and part of the 55th, as the other members of the 55th were trapped to the south) got trapped near the road and a short battle ensued there while the majority of us scrambled above a cliff. We briefly regrouped, but the milice came up and engaged us there. The men were relentless in their fire and kept putting the lead to them; it seemed as if there were 50 of the scoundrels chasing us up the hill. I was shot early in the encounter by the red-coated Indian who I had killed earlier in the morning. He had managed to get high above me and had a clean shot, but was killed by Bauer immediately. Our force fought hard and survived with pretty good numbers.

Not long after a brief stop to check our muskets, grab some food & water, and redistribute cartridges, we moved south again, still on the hill, and found ourselves looking down upon some more French, this time Valiquette’s Troupes de la marine. These four were quick to start climbing the hill, and once again we were clamboring upward to keep the high ground. We came to an excellent flat area with a cliff both below and above us. We positioned ourselves to fight but it would have been nearly impossible for them to fire on us. Still, young Herbel made his first serious error by moving too far to the side, becoming exposed, and while he killed his man, he too was mortally wounded. Eventually, however, the French had to admit defeat because of our superior position. We congratulated them for making a jolly good try and giving it a good effort, considering the climb up the hill.

From there, we became concerned about whether the French were moving north. We came off the hillside, set up scouts along the road and went to Red Rock to observe their positions. Young Herbel noted that several canoes were indeed traveling northward and there were no signs of the rest of the enemy.

While most of us went back to camp, Privates Price and Filkins, with Goodrich, went down to the inlet where our canoes were hidden and once there, surprised a party of three Indians. Lieutenant Goodrich quickly dispatched two of them while Price took care of the other. I recognized one of them by description – Tista, a hot-tempered squaw. We found that they had ransacked Bill’s canoe and helped themselves to some of his rum rations.

Even though the day had been long and eventful, I still had the desire to find out where the French were encamped since their moving north. LT Goodrich and I therefore took a canoe to find out what we could. As we approached Black Mountain Point, we could see that at least some of the French forces were there, and we assumed several boats and canoes were tied up on the far side where docking was easy. We saluted them as we passed by, and we were confident that with the wind dead calm their bateaux wouldn't chase us, and the canoes wouldn't be bothered to try to follow us.  To our amazement, the wind suddenly picked up and began to blow, and even though it came from north, the Monsieur Chandler launched his boat to catch us.

Goodrich and I paddled for our lives and I aimed for a small island I thought we could get onto and defend with our muskets and swivel gun. Once we got there, however, we discovered it was too small, and we had to keep going. They were gaining on us but our lead held and we managed to get to the far side of the lake to scramble onto land in a little cove out of site. We set up a defensive position with our three guns and the moment they came into view, not certain of our location, we fired all guns and caused heavy damage to the boat.

From there we continued north, up past and around Floating Battery and had to make a run between the French on shore and those in the boat, this time with some wind in their favor.

N.B. by Chauncey Goodrich: That evening, the Captain informed me he was going around to the lower ledge to retrieve some items previously cached there and, with  a snicker, said if we heard any noise in the dark, it was him falling off a cliff. Not much after that, those of us huddled around the fire heard a considerable noise but I jokingly said, "It's just the Captain falling off a cliff." I was sure he was just searching around in the deep leaves for his food stuffs. Some time later, he came limping back to tell us he had indeed accidentlaly taken a walk right off a shear cliff and in one step went about 12 feet or more staight down. He had been tricked in the dark by a tree immediately in front of him which actually grew from the ledge below. Miraculously, he had landed on soft leaves and avoided the tree as well as the jagged and uneven rocks less than a yard away (as we discovered the next morning). There's nothing like taking the direct route!

After that unbelievably full day of six successful engagements, we all found our bedrolls early. It rained that night off and on and heavy at times. Around midnight I headed for the French camp at Black Mountain Point. In spite of the wet, I still expected to find at least one guard on watch. I took more than 30 minutes to crawl across the open area to where I assumed a guard would be posted, but none was there. I checked several other logical spots to post a sentry, but still nothing. I wandered throughout the camp to find all were fast asleep and at my mercy. Thoroughly insulted at their lack of respect for the King’s forces, I relieved the Commander’s boat of it’s colors, stashed them in the woods and went back to place a grenade near a tent which I figured must belong to someone important. After struggling for a moment in the wet with my slow match, I managed to get the fuse lit and hastily made my way back to the woods, retrieved the French colors, and was headed down the trail when the grenade exploded.

Thursday October 12

We were up and out of camp early again, and thankfully the rain stopped before sunrise. We decided we were going to go north to find the Indians who had been either notably stealthy or just absent all week. We traveled up on the mountain again, scouting a considerable distance but enjoying the beauty of the mountain in the autumn. The warmth had kept even the tiniest critters out and we noted salamanders and toads even though it was mid-October. While heading downhill in the middle of the wilderness, I was assassinated by what turned out to be a loan Frenchman, who subsequently evaded pursuit. We didn’t know he was alone at the time and spent considerable time sweeping the side of the hill for more of the enemy, but none were to be found. Eventually, we ended up north of Black Mountain Point and came down to the water at Ranger Bay. We relaxed briefly there, and had a snack on the peninsula, and despaired of not finding any Indians.

At that point, we had to quickly march south to be there in time for the parley, and we had to go past the parley site to pick up our libations and gifts for tour adversary. On our way past the French camp, Bill fired on the French even though we had just parleyed for passage. Several of the enemy took umbrage and a hornets nest pursued him, but he managed to outrun them, not stopping until he reached his canoe and collapsed, exhausted.

When we got back to camp, we discovered very obvious signs that our unguarded camp had been thoroughly over-run. In fact, they had taken my feathered cap and gorget. Fortunately, they did not find the flag I had taken from the Plague Rat the night before, which had been well hidden. We gathered our offerings, got in our canoes, and made our way to the parley, which was held back at Black Mountain Point.

There we exchanged pleasantries, libations, and the spoils of war: I got my hat back and returned the flag; however, the younger of the two Marques of the milice is borrowing my gorget until we meet again – a very dangerous proposition for him.

While at Black Mountain Point, Peter Marques brought out the last remains of his dear friend, and the good friend of many of us, Gerry Cook, who died suddenly in October, two years past. Gerry had been a long-time presence at the Lake George Tactical and it was fitting that he be left there. In a small and personal memorial, Peter spread ashes on the ground and on the water to spread across the Lake.

After the parley, back in our humble Rager camp, we all gathered what rations we had left and combined them into one very nice wilderness meal. There were no hungry stomaches to be found in the Ranger camp that night.

Friday Morning

At sunrise, the air was crisp and frost was covering the area. Autumn had finally arrived.  We cleaned muskets, carefully packed our gear, and headed for Fort Edward where we had lunch and toasted the king.

L to R: Bob Albrecht, Dave Herbel, John Bauer, Chauncey Goodrich, Bill Filkins, Quintin Kennedy