Le Griffon

The black water of Lake Michigan lapped gently at the shore. It was the night of the new moon, and while the stars shone like cold gems against black silk, it was the orange glow of the campfire on the sand that provided most of the light. It flickered on the faces of the three children and one adult huddled there, sending shadows dancing and twisting around their features.

Old Glenn’s gravel voice cut through the still night air. “How many of you know the story of the first ship to sail the Great Lakes?”

The children stared at him silently.

“Hmph! All right then. Her name was Le Griffon. It’s French for the Griffon because the first people to use ships on the Great Lakes were the French.”

“Wait a minute,” piped up Garrett. “Weren’t the first people on the Great Lakes the Ojibwe?”

“The Ojibwe did arrive before the French, yes. And the Ottawa, and the Potawatomi,” answered Old Glenn. “But—”

“I thought the first people in Michigan were the Mound Builders,” said Marlo.

“They were,” said Garrett. “But they were gone before the Three Fires got here.”

“But there other tribes, too, like the Sauk—”

Old Glenn cut in before Sana could finish. “This is a very interesting history lesson, and while all of these people traveled the Great Lakes in canoes and so forth, a canoe is not a ship.”

“What’s the difference?” asked Marlo.

“Be patient, and I’ll tell you,” Old Glenn retorted. The children quieted, and he continued. “Ships are larger than canoes—much larger—and have a bowsprit, and decks, and masts, and rigging, and things like that.”

“Do modern ships have masts?” asked Sana.

Old Glenn sighed loudly through his nose. “It doesn’t matter! We aren’t talking about modern ships. We’re talking about the Griffon, which was a sailing ship, the largest ship to sail the Lakes at that time. She had two masts and seven cannons. And she disappeared without a trace.”

“Ooh,” the children chorused.

“She first set sail on August 7, 1679…”

***

The Griffon was captained by famed explorer René-Robert Cavelier, Sieur de La Salle, in his quest for the longed-for Northwest Passage. She was launched on the Niagara River at Cayuga Island upstream of the Niagara Falls in New York. The local Iroquois people were skeptical of the strange vessel, and they planned to set fire to her. But the Griffon still had a destiny to fulfill. A woman from the village warned the French.

The situation wasn’t helped by the fact that her captain had made enemies with the Jesuit priests, who were friendly with the Iroquois. La Salle mocked the priests in front of the Iroquois prophet Metiomek, a Christian convert. Metiomek cursed the ship, her captain, and the profane griffon figure itself, which had been chosen to protect the ship from the threat of fire.

Metiomek said to La Salle, “Great Chief, you are too proud. You have shown contempt for the Great Spirit who rules all things, and you have set up an evil spirit on His throne. You seek the tribes of the west to trade with them and to destroy them with your cursed fire-water. You sneer at the black gowns Onontio sent us, who have taught us to worship the Great Spirit and till the ground. But Metiomek, the prophet of his race, bids you beware; darkness, like a cloud, is ready to envelop you—the Christian Indian's curse rests on you and on your great canoe. She will sink beneath the deep waters, and your blood shall stain the hands of those in whom you trusted!”

***

“I thought a ship wasn’t a canoe,” said Marlo.

“No, it was a canoe that wasn’t a ship,” Garrett corrected.

“If it wasn’t one, why did Metiomek call it a canoe?” asked Sana.

Old Glenn sighed heavily. “Do you kids want to hear the story, or do you want to debate on water-going vessels?”

Sana ducked her head sheepishly. “Story, please.”

“All right then. So the Griffon was cursed by Metiomek…”

***

The Iroquois who gathered to watch the Griffon’s launch were impressed. They respected the French...and their canons. With the Griffon at last anchored offshore, the French rested easy, unafraid of the prior threat of destruction. If only they knew what lay ahead.

Twelve men towed the Griffon through the Niagara River rapids, then her sails were unfurled, and she moved into waters that had previously only been traversed by canoe. She entered the Detroit River on August 10th, then on August 12th, they sailed into a new body of water, which they named Lake St. Clair after the saint whose feast day it was. Once again, twelve men towed the Griffon through the rapids of the St. Clair River and into Lake Huron.

***

“Geez,” said Garrett. “Talk about a history lesson.”

Old Glenn sniffed. “Young man, it is called building suspense.”

Sana ventured, “But it’s kind of boring.”

“Yeah,” agreed Marlo. “Can we skip ahead to the good part?”

“I thought you hadn’t heard this story before,” said Old Glenn.

“We haven’t,” answered Marlo. “And if something exciting doesn’t happen soon, we’re going to fall asleep before we hear the end of it.”

“All right, all right. After a brief stop at Mackinac Island, the Griffon continued on to Green Bay…”

***

It had been a long voyage plagued by desertion and dangerous storms that tossed the ship mercilessly. La Salle prayed to God and Saint Anthony, the patron saint of sailors, for their safe deliverance. The Griffon finally anchored safely at an island in Green Bay that was inhabited by amicable Pottawatomies. Fifteen traders waited with 12,000 pounds of fur that was then loaded onto the Griffon for her return voyage. La Salle decided to stay behind to further explore Lake Michigan.

Before she could leave, the Griffon had to withstand a violent four-day storm. It was past mid-September, a time when the weather on the Great Lakes can prove unpredictable and unforgiving. Was this storm a warning? Had Metiomek’s curse followed her all the way to Green Bay?

After the storm passed, the winds grew favorable, and the six crewmen waved goodbye to La Salle and set sail. It was the last her captain ever saw of the Griffon, or his men.

***

“That’s it?” asked Marlo. “The Griffon just disappeared?”

Old Glenn nodded.

“But, there has to be more to it!” argued Garrett. “How did she disappear? What do they think happened to her?”

“And what about the rest of Metiomek’s curse?” asked Sana. “What happened to La Salle?”

Old Glenn held up a hand. “I will answer your questions one at a time. Some say the Griffon fell victim to yet another violent storm. Others claim it was the treachery of the fur traders, or even the black coated Jesuit priests who took her down. Still others blame a group of Ottawas or Pottawatomies who snuck on board, killed the crew, and then burned the Griffon, just as the Iroquios had tried to do weeks before. La Salle himself believed the crew had turned on him, sank the ship, and made off with her bounty. That much fur was worth a lot of money back then.”

“What about La Salle?” Sana persisted.

“La Salle eventually traveled to the Gulf of Mexico with colonists from France. But the expedition was plagued by pirates and angry indiginous people who rightfully defended their homes. Only one ship made it to her destination, and she sank just offshore. La Salle wandered with his followers for two years in the marshy Mississippi delta. One day, some of the men mutinied, and La Salle was killed, finally fulfilling Metiomek’s prophecy.”

“Ooh,” the children chorused.

“But,” Old Glenn continued, “that isn’t all there is to the Griffon’s story. That fateful September day wasn’t the last anyone had seen of her. Oh no. She’s still seen to this day, gliding silently over the waters of northern Lake Michigan.”

Old Glenn looked out at the lake beside them. The children followed his gaze.

“Many have tried to approach, but she always disappears just when they are within reach. For one man’s pride, the Griffon and her crew are doomed to sail the Great Lakes for all eternity, never again able to make anchor, and never to find peace.”

The children continued to gape at the dark water...and shivered.