The various gifts from King James were therefore sent to the Indian village by water, while the Captain with a guard of fifty men went by boat. The day following the arrival of the whites was agreed upon for the coronation and so the presents were brought ashore, the bed and furniture were set up, and, in spite of his struggles, the scarlet cloak and other apparel was put upon the unwilling Powhatan. He feared, indeed, that it wouldinjure him, but his servant Namontack, who had been to England with Newport, assured him that no harm would come to him, and so he allowed the clothing to be hung upon his body, although he absolutely refused to kneel and receive the crown upon his head. Finally the patience of the Englishmen became exhausted, one leaned upon his shoulder so as to cause him to stoop a little, and three more clung to him and pushed him downward, while one had the crown in his hand. Suddenly it was slapped on his head, a pistol shot rang out, and, in token of the coronation, the soldiers discharged their muskets in salute. Immediately Powhatan leaped upright with an expression of terror and fear upon his countenance, for he believed that an attack was to be made upon him, but, seeing that all was well, he recovered his usual composure, generously gave his old shoes and deerskin mantle to Newport in acknowledgment of appreciation for these presents, and, turning to him, told him that he absolutely refused to lend him any of his men, except Namontack, to go against the Monocans. He was most courteous and civil, and presented Newport with seven or eight bushels of corn ears in recognition of his kindness and politeness.
Little was now heard of Powhatan, but it became evident that he was not on friendly terms with the English, as the neighboring tribes refused to keep up their trade with those at Jamestown, some stating that they had been so advised by the great Emperor.
This naturally made Smith very angry. At one time he contemplated falling upon We-ro-woco-moco by surprise and seizing all of the stores of corn which hewould find there, but, feeling that discretion was the better part of valor, he restrained his wild intentions and in December, 1608, accepted an invitation of Powhatan's to visit him. The Emperor had asked him to assist in building a house and requested him to bring a grindstone, fifty swords, a few muskets, a cock and a hen, and a quantity of beads and of copper. Forty-six Colonists accompanied the bold Captain on this expedition, and at the first stopping place, Werrasqueake, the chief Sachem of the place, endeavored to dissuade the Englishmen from continuing the trip. "Powhatan will use you kindly, but he has sent for you only to cut your throat," said he. "Trust him not and give him no opportunity to seize your arms." In spite of this the unhesitating Englishmen kept on, and when at length they arrived at We-ro-woco-moco and asked for provisions, they were promptly supplied with bread, venison and turkeys, while the Emperor stated, with some energy, that he and his people had very little corn, though if the English would present him with forty swords he felt that about forty baskets could be collected. Smith found that Powhatan would take nothing but guns and swords in exchange for provisions and that he valued a basket of corn higher than a basket of copper, and thus became quite angry when he saw how anxious the savage was to secure possession of the arms of the whites. "I will spare you what corn I can," said the Emperor, "and that within two days, but, Captain Smith, I have some doubts as to your object in this visit. I am informed that you wish to conquer more than to trade, and, at all events, you must know thatmy people must be afraid to come near you with their corn, as long as you are armed with such a retinue. Lay aside your weapons, then. Here they are needless. We are friends. All Powhatans."
"You mistake our intentions," said Smith. "We come not to conquer, but to gain provisions."
"I am old, Captain Smith," answered the great chief, "and I know well the difference between peace and war. I wish to live quietly with you, and I wish the same for my successors. Now the rumors which reach me on all sides make me uneasy. What do you expect to gain by destroying us who provide you with food? And what can you get by war if we escape you and hide our provisions in the woods? We are unarmed, too, you see. Do you believe me such a fool as not to prefer eating good meat, sleeping quietly at home, laughing and making merry with you, having copper and hatchets and anything else, as your friend, to flying from you as your enemy, lying cold in the woods, eating acorns and roots and being so hunted by you meanwhile, that if but a twig break my men will cry out, 'There comes Captain Smith!' Let us be friends then. Do not invade us with such an armed force. Lay aside these arms!"
But Smith refused to accede to this request, for he feared that he was about to be attacked by the followers of Powhatan who were clustered about, and so gave secret orders for hauling his boat ashore through the ice and landing many of his men who were on board. In the endeavor to detain Powhatan, he started a vigorous conversation with the old Sachem. AppreciatingSmith's ruse, the witty warrior left two or three of his women to talk with him while he left the house in which they were very hurriedly, with all of his attendants. Captain Smith now found himself completely surrounded by Indians. Fearing an attack, he drew his sword, and, brandishing it about his head, cut his way through the crowd of savages, who, as soon as he fired his pistol, fled in all directions.
In spite of this show of hostility upon the part of Smith, the Indians again flocked around him, while Powhatan sent a large and handsome bracelet by the hand of one of his chief orators, who made a long speech, full of complimentary remarks and excuses for their conduct. The savages also furnished baskets for carrying the corn, and offered to guard the Englishmen's firearms, an offer which was of course declined, as Smith feared they would steal these necessary possessions. As the fall of the tide made it impossible for them to continue their journey that night, the English knew that they must remain where they were. It was true that there was treachery afoot, for Pocahontas soon came to Smith's quarters in the woods and told him that her father Powhatan was collecting all of his men to make an assault upon his force, unless the Indians who would bring in the supper should themselves be able to kill him.
The Captain was consequently on his guard an hour afterwards, when ten, strapping, big fellows came into camp bearing great platters of venison and other victuals. They asked the English to put out the matches of their muskets, for the smoke of them was most annoying. But Smith appreciated their ruse, made them tasteevery dish that had been brought in, so that if there was any poison inside it would first take hold of those who brought it, and, telling them to inform Powhatan that the English were all prepared for him whenever he wished to start hostilities, he sent them back to the chief of the most powerful tribe in Virginia. There was no attack, so the English sailed away on their journey of exploration, leaving behind them one Englishman to kill game for Powhatan, and two or three Germans to assist him in building a house.
Today, on a high hill near the spot where once stood the town of We-ro-woco-moco, is a stone chimney called "Powhatan's Chimney," and, according to tradition, this is the chimney of the house which the German artisans erected for the great Virginia Sachem.
The English pushed onward in search of corn, for they were sorely in need of it for the colony at Jamestown, and at length came to the lodges of Opechancanough, king of the Pamunkies, and a younger brother of Powhatan. From him Captain Smith secured a certain amount of supplies, only after a severe personal scuffle. Thus, after an absence of six weeks, the Colonists reached Jamestown with a cargo of four hundred seventy-nine bushels of corn and two hundred pounds of deer suet, in exchange for which they had given but twenty-five pounds of copper and fifty pounds of iron and beads.
The Powhatans seemed also to be on fairly good terms with the English and traded with them most amicably until Smith departed for England. Then, realizing that their most intelligent adversary had left,they fell upon the six hundred settlers who remained behind, with such success, that at the end of six months, only sixty men, women, and children were alive at Jamestown. These were almost reduced to starvation and were living on roots, herbs, acorns, walnuts, berries and an occasional fish, when supplied by two ships which arrived at Jamestown early in 1613 with some food-stuffs for the colony. But what they brought was insufficient for the needs of the starving people, and so Captain Argall, who commanded, sailed up the Potomac to trade with the natives for corn. Powhatan was now extremely hostile to the colony; his men had captured and stolen many English arms and had secured a number of white prisoners.
Meanwhile Pocahontas had left her father's home and had gone to reside temporarily with the Potomacs—a friendly tribe which had its hunting ground upon the Potomac River. Contemporary historians differ as to the reason for this; one account being that she had gone there merely upon a visit among friends; another that she had been sent by Powhatan to trade with them; and still another that her father did not like her friendship for the whites and so dispatched her there to get her away from any possible intimacy with them. At any rate when Captain Argall had been informed by friendly Indians that Pocahontas was near by, a plan for making peace with Powhatan immediately suggested itself to his unscrupulous mind. He, therefore, sent for one of the Indian chiefs and told him that if he did not give Pocahontas into his hands they would no longer be "brothers and friends." And when the Potomacs,fearing war with Powhatan, seemed unwilling to do this, Captain Argall assured them that he would take their part if any war should occur.
But how could he secure the Indian maiden, for she appeared to manifest no desire to go on board the vessel? This was indeed a problem, and, after thinking the matter over for some time, he decided that he would make use of a little strategy in order to gain his end. So he offered an old Indian, called Japazaws, the irresistible bribe of a copper kettle, if he would bring Pocahontas to the ship. This was too much for the old Indian to withstand. With the aid of his wife, who begged her husband to allow her to go aboard, he managed to get Pocahontas to visit the anchored vessel, an accomplishment which was effected by appealing to the tender heart of the Indian girl, who was so moved to pity when she saw Japazaws refuse to take his wife aboard unless she had some female with her, that she offered to accompany her to the English ship. The old Indian and his wife were highly pleased at the success of their stratagem; so much so, that all through dinner they kept treading on the toes of Captain Argall and laughing aloud. But after supper the Captain sent Pocahontas to the gun room while he pretended to have a private conversation with Japazaws. He soon recalled the Indian Princess and told her that she must remain with him and that she could not again see her father, Powhatan, until she had effected a peace between his noble sire and the English. Japazaws and his wife immediately set up a great howling and crying, but Pocahontas was exceedingly pensive and downcast.She even shed a few tears as the old people who had betrayed her were rowed to shore, happy, smiling, and holding tightly their copper kettle and other trinkets which the witty Captain had given them.
Soon afterwards the English sent an Indian messenger to Powhatan and informed him that his dear daughter Pocahontas was a prisoner, and that, if he would send home the Englishmen whom he had detained in slavery with such arms and tools as his subjects had stolen, and also a great quantity of corn, then his daughter would be restored to him; otherwise she would be kept and treated with kindness and consideration. Powhatan loved his daughter dearly, but he apparently had still greater love for the English weapons that he possessed, for, although he replied that he would perform the conditions laid down by the English so that he might regain his daughter, he did not do so, and it was a very long time before anything was heard of him.
After three months of silence seven Englishmen were sent to the Governor of Jamestown, three muskets, a broad-axe, a whip-saw, and a canoe full of corn, and, accompanying them was a message to the effect that if Pocahontas were returned, a large quantity of corn would be dispatched to the Colonists. But this did not entirely meet with the approval of Argall.
"Your daughter shall be well used, but we cannot believe that the rest of our arms are either lost or stolen from you, and, therefore, till you send them we will keep Pocahontas with us," said he to the emissaries.
To this answer the sagacious Powhatan did not reply, and it was a long time before anything was again heardof him. Finally, as he remained silent for such a length of time, Sir Thomas Dale, with one hundred and fifty men, embarked in the Colonists' vessels for a visit to the Emperor. Pocahontas was taken along, and when the party sailed up the York River, Powhatan was not to be found, while those followers of his who did appear received them with scornful threats, taunts, and open hostility. The English replied with musket shots, and, after a sharp fight, some of the Indian houses were burned to the ground.
This angered Powhatan greatly, and when they asked why it had been done, the English answered by asking why they had shot at them with their arrows. To this the savage replied that they had meant no harm, that they were the white man's friends, and that the blame lay upon some straggling savage. A peace was, therefore, declared and messengers were sent to Powhatan in the persons of Mrs. John Rolfe and Mrs. Sparks, who were kindly received and hospitably entertained, but were not admitted to the great Sachem's presence. Instead, his brother Opechancanough saw them and promised to do the best that he could to persuade Powhatan to negotiate a treaty, and that "all might be well." This was slight satisfaction indeed, but, as it was now April and time to sow corn, the English were obliged to return to Jamestown.
Pocahontas went with them with great unwillingness and not without tears. For a year she was a prisoner at Jamestown, and, as her feelings had always been warm for the white strangers, they treated her with the greatest friendliness and kindness. She was nowabout eighteen years of age, with an oval, pleasant, interesting face, large black eyes and straight, black hair. Mr. John Rolfe—a young Colonist of honesty and purpose—took a great interest in her, and, in the endeavor to convert her to Christianity, fell in love with this sweet and simple Indian Princess. Pocahontas adopted Christianity, and, when marriage was suggested by good John Rolfe, readily accepted his proposal. Powhatan, himself, seemed to be well pleased with the match when informed of it, and within ten days of this announcement an old Uncle of Pocahontas and two of her brothers arrived at Jamestown as deputies from Powhatan to witness the marriage of his daughter and to show the amiability of the father. Pocahontas was first baptized, was christened Rebbeca, and, as she was a King's daughter, was known sometimes thereafter as the Lady Rebbeca, sometimes as the Lady Pocahontas. The ceremony took place about April the first, 1618. In the little Colonial Church at Jamestown, with its wide-open windows, the cedar pews, and its plainly hewed pulpit, with a canoe-like front, the copper-hued Princess was united in marriage to John Rolfe, while Colonists and three Indians looked on in solemn but cheerful silence, amid the scent of wild flowers, the trilling of birds, and the soft wind-gusts from the river.
From now on friendly intercourse and trade was re-established with Powhatan and his people. Thus the marriage was of great import to the Colonists, for it relieved them from worry and alarm. And in another way, also, the marriage of this sweet Indian maiden benefitted the colony, for the nearest neighbors of theEnglish—the Chickahominys—were powerful, free from the yoke of Powhatan, and had taken advantage of the feud between the Colonists and the Great Sachem to keep independent of both. Now they began to have doubts of their own liberty, when the English were at peace with Powhatan, so they sent a deputation to Sir Thomas Dale, and concluded a treaty with him, to the effect that they would furnish three hundred men in case of a Spanish attack upon the Colony, bring a tribute of corn at harvest time (for which they were to receive payments in hatchets) and that each of the eight of their chief men, who were to see to the performance of this treaty, should have a red coat and a copper chain with the picture of King James upon it, and be called the King's noblemen.
The marriage of the good Pocahontas to John Rolfe seems to have put an end to aggressive interference with the Colonists on the part of Powhatan. From that moment until his death, a few years later, Indian warfare was at an end, and serious difficulty between the white settlers and the savages did not again break out until the reign of Opechancanough, King of Pamunkies, and Powhatan's successor. The Indian tribes are democracies and he who rules must acquire and sustain his influence by his absolute ability and energy. The head Sachem had to be brave, hardy, patient, indefatigable, and had to show talents for controlling the fortunes and commanding the respect of the community which he governed. Powhatan had every requisite for success, and Opechancanough, who succeeded him, possessed the same characteristics. Numerous sons ofthe great chief could have stepped into his shoes, had they had sufficient ability to do so.
Powhatan exacted implicit obedience from his subjects, and, as an old writer says, "His will was law and had to be obeyed." His followers esteemed him not only as a king, but as half a God. What he commanded they dare not disobey in the least. At his feet they presented whatever he gave orders for, and, at the least frown of his brow their great spirits trembled for fear. He possessed great tact and diplomacy, and his long and artful conversations with Captain Smith in order to gain time; the promptness with which he refused the proposal to march with the English against the Monocans; and his refusal to listen to the proposal of two German deserters who fled to him from Jamestown with the offer of bringing Captain Smith to him securely bound; shows him to have been a man of no small honesty. To the Germans he replied that, "Men who betrayed their captain would betray their emperor," and forthwith ordered the scoundrels to be dispatched with war clubs.
It is on record that no acts of thieving or aggression against the white settlers at Jamestown were done by the Powhatans, until Smith, driven to use aggression upon his own part because starvation stared him in the face, intimidated the Indians by a show of armed force, and made them give him boatloads of corn by threatening an attack unless they delivered the much-needed provisions. From then on the Indians became more suspicious of the whites, more aggressive, and more troublesome. There is no doubt that the morehot-headed spirits would have openly attacked the settlers on more than one occasion, had not Powhatan's restraining voice held them in check. At the beginning of the settlement at Jamestown the savages could have put an end to every white man in Virginia had they so wished and had Powhatan so ordered. But these Indians met the whites peaceably, gave them, at first, plenty of provisions, and not until they appreciated that the men with "thundering-sticks" (muskets) had come to remain among them and to gradually despoil them of their land, did they show that resentment, vindictiveness, or cruelty, which afterwards characterized their actions toward the settlers. And, as has always occurred, the red men gave way before the all-compelling advance of the whites.
When Sir Thomas Dale, who had been governor of Virginia for five years, left for England, he took with him Pocahontas, John Rolfe—her husband—and Tomocomo, one of Powhatan's chief men, who had been told by the Emperor to count the people of England and give him an exact idea of their strength. The Great Indian Emperor had a strong suspicion, also, that England had no corn or lumber, because great shiploads of both these commodities continually left the James River for the Mother Country, and so Tomocomo was requested to observe whether or no the white men had trees or grain fields. The vessel reached Plymouth on June 12th, 1616, and, on leaving the vessel, Tomocomo prepared a long stick upon which he was to cut a notch whenever he saw a man. He kept this up for a day and then said, "Ugh! Ugh! Too many! Stick not long enough."He also saw that England was not lacking in either lumber or grain fields.
The popular interest in Pocahontas was very great. Persons followed her about for hours, and crowds attended her every appearance. She was presented at Court to King James Ist, and his Queen, and made a most satisfactory impression; for all were charmed by her kindness, simplicity, and sweetness of manner. But the noise, confusion and smoke of London tired the timid Indian girl, so she was moved to Brentford, where Captain John Smith—who had returned to England because of a wound—went to see her very often and talked to her of Virginia, of Powhatan, and of the great sweeping waters of the Chesapeake Bay. It could be easily seen that the kind-hearted Princess was homesick. After the birth of a son, whom they christened Thomas Rolfe, she longed to return to her native land and to once more see her people, her father, and the waving cornfields of the Powhatans, the Potomacs and the Pamunkies. So preparations were made for her journey. She accompanied her husband to Gravesend where a vessel was being fitted for Virginia, but, catching a severe cold, she died on the very eve of her departure, and at the early age of twenty-two. No one showed more sorrow at her unexpected demise than did the gallant Captain Smith whom she had saved, whose followers she had often warned of impending danger, and whose kind intervention in behalf of the starving Colonists had, on many occasions, moved the fierce distrust of Powhatan to compassion and to concessions of the life-sustaining and much needed corn.
One year later, in 1618, her father—the Great Powhatan—also went to "the happy hunting grounds," as the Indian says of those who have departed to another world. Peace reigned in Virginia; his own tribe was on friendly terms with both the neighboring Indians and with the white settlers, who were gradually taking possession of plantations upon the James; his cornfields were being well tilled; and his people were contented and happy. As a warrior he undoubtedly had been of superior mettle in his youth, for without this he could never have arisen to the position which he held. As a counsellor, director, and advisor of the destinies of his people, the fact that he kept them contented, rich, and prosperous, is sufficient tribute to his ability as a great Sachem. His dealings with the English were not treacherous, save where he expected aggression on the part of the whites; and honesty, integrity and intellectuality governed his words and public utterances. For an Indian he was notable, and, had he been brought up in the same civilization and refinement which surrounded the white invaders of his territory, there is no doubt that he would have been as much respected by the first settlers at Jamestown as he was by his own people, who gave full credit to the talents of any man of superior ability. His self-command and chivalrous courtesy were quite worthy of the best of Englishmen, and thus his title to greatness is secure.
Sir George Yeardley, Governor of the Virginia Colony in 1616, stood before the door of his cabin at Jamestown, busily engaged in conversation with a stout yeoman, who was clad in rough clothes, with a breastplate upon his chest, and a round iron helmet upon his head.
"We are in need of corn, Captain Brown," said he, "and we must, as heretofore, collect it from the Indians."
"But they have refused to give it to us," answered his military companion. "They are growing insolent and disrespectful."
"Have you tried Opechancanough?"
"Yea, and he had put me off with smiles and grimaces."
"Have you tried the Chickahominies?"
"Yea, and they have refused, point blank, to aid us."
"Then we must collect it by force or we shall starve. Therefore gather one hundred soldiers. We will march upon them tomorrow, and if they will stand, we will give them a right smart drubbing. At any rate, corn we must have and corn we shall get."
Next morning a force of soldiers marched out from the stockade and soon filled the many canoes, near by, by means of which they were carried up the river.They were armed with long swords, muskets, and knives. Their bullet pouches were well filled, their breastplates were newly polished, and the sun gleamed from their shining helmets and steel weapons. They laughed and chatted gayly, for they knew that the affair could have but one outcome, and that would be in their favor.
After a merry journey, the homes of the Chickahominies were seen in the distance, and, forming for the assault, the soldiers were soon beset by hundreds of painted warriors, whose yelping and screeching sounded wildly through the leafy thickets. "You dare not come on," cried one of the braves who had learned to speak English upon his visits to Jamestown, and as he spoke he fired an arrow at the oncoming whites, which struck one of the men full in the breastplate. "On, on," shouted Sir George Yeardley. "Give these red devils a lesson which they will not soon forget. Move cautiously, my men, and do not charge among these wild fellows until I give the signal." So, carefully and steadily, the troops moved forward in regular alignment, firing at intervals, and occasionally striking one of the screeching, jumping Indians with a bullet. They soon drove them beyond the village, seized enough corn to satisfy their needs, and turning toward home, beat a safe and slow retreat through the forest, being repeatedly fired upon by the savages.
As they neared Jamestown, Opechancanough—the younger brother of Powhatan—met them in the forest. He had succeeded to the position of Chief Sachem which his relative had held before him, and was apparently upon as friendly terms with the whites as his honoredbrother had been. With much show of warm friendship, he approached the leader of this successful foraging party, and, bending to the ground, said:
"You now have been fighting with the Chickahominies. I see that you have gathered much corn. You will need to make peace with them, now, or there will be much fighting. Ugh! Ugh! Let me make peace with these people for you. They are a great nation. They can do you much harm. Let me see that the peace pipe is smoked between you."
"Your suggestion is a good one," answered Yeardley. "I shall think it over," and motioning for his men to proceed, they were soon on their way to Jamestown.
Not many days after this, Opechancanough—with Yeardley's consent—went to the Chickahominies to secure a peace. He pretended that he had used great pains and solicitation to secure this, and so impressed this fact upon these Indians, that they proclaimed him king of their nation, and flocked from all sides with beads and copper presents to give to the new Sachem. From this time on the brother of Powhatan was content to be called the King of Chickahominy, and thus—of their own free will—a brave and resolute people came to be his subjects. For many years they had made a successful resistance to all attacks of other Indian tribes, and had frequently given the English a stout fight.
Opechancanough saw that the whites were increasing in Virginia in alarming proportions, and in his heart began to smoulder a longing to drive them out of the country of his forefathers. He was polite and civil tothe settlers whenever he saw them, and no one could tell by talking to him that he meditated any attack upon the Colonists, but he was brooding over the situation at all times, and was determined that, when the time was ripe, he would take upon himself the duty of expelling the English from Virginian soil. No better preparation for war could have been made on his part than he effected when he secured the submission of the Chickahominies to his rule. It has even been thought that he, himself, stirred them up to open rebellion when the English had demanded corn from them, so that his own influence over them would be greater. For they knew of his hostile feelings towards the whites, and marvelled, when they appreciated that he could still be on such friendly terms with them that he was admitted to their councils.
In 1618 these Indians murdered several settlers, and although Opechancanough was asked to give satisfaction, he did not do so. He was requested to send in the heads of the offenders as a proof that they had met the fate which was due them, but although he promised to acquiesce to this demand, the English waited for months, and no word came from him. Thus a few of the more cautious of the Colonists began to fear that trouble was brewing with the politic, shrewd, and diplomatic King of the Chickahominies.
These fears had no evidence of being well grounded, from the actions of Opechancanough, for the artful Chieftain gave the English no open cause of offense, or any evidence of hostility. It is true that the white men suspected treachery, for one of the JamestownColonists writes, in 1620, "Now Opechancanough will not come to treat with us which causes us to greatly suspect his former promises that he is friendly to us and to our interests." But this slight uneasiness was soon forgotten, for when Sir Francis Wyatt succeeded Governor Yeardley a few years later messengers were sent to the Chief of the Chickahominies, and he received them with kindness, expressed the hope that the new President would have a pleasant time in Virginia, and renewed his former league with the colony, with apparent cheerfulness.
"I am much pleased to hear that the English are inhabiting this country," said he to one of the messengers, "and I think it would be well if some of your white families would settle among my people, and some of my Indians should settle at Jamestown. I confess that my own religion is not as perfect as that of you English, and I shall be glad to be baptized into the Christian faith. God loves you whites better than he does the red men, and he has given you knowledge of guns which spit fire, which we have never had. In proof of my love for my white brothers I shall give you guides to show you to rich mines far up the river, where you can get precious metals to send to your Mother Country in exchange for sheep, oxen, and provisions."
The English were naturally delighted with such talk, and, without the least suspicion that this wily Sachem was plotting murder in his heart, sent some of their best men to him to be guided to the mines. While they were away upon this expedition, Opechancanough dispatched a few of his followers to the eastern shore ofthe Chesapeake Bay to secure a quantity of poisonous herbs which grew there and which he wished to use in getting rid of the English. "We would know your feelings towards these whites," said his ambassadors to the red inhabitants of this country. "Are you friendly to these English invaders, or would you care to see them exterminated?"
"We are friendly. We need their trade. They do not harm us, nor do we intend to harm them," answered the spokesman of the Indians of the eastern shore.
"But they will soon take all the land which you have inherited from your forefathers, and will drive you into the sea. Come, join with us in exterminating these white invaders."
"No, no. We will remain at peace," said the men of the eastern shore, and so there was no hope of their aid in the insurrection which Opechancanough was planning. The storm was slowly gathering, and it was to soon burst upon the unsuspecting settlers like the tempestuous current of Niagara.
The white settlers had taken up plantations over a vast area of land, and some of them had farms at a considerable distance from the river, from each other, and from the stockade at Jamestown. Here, in fancied peace and seclusion, they tilled the soil, grew corn, wheat, and tobacco, and began to prosper in the wilderness. Their women and children were with them, the rough-hewn barns were full of cows, horses, and sheep, while—piled near their log houses—the ploughs and other imported implements of agriculture showed that the civilization of the whites was soon to bend the wildernessto its will, and make the virgin soil produce. There was no suspicion of an Indian attack. The red men loitered lazily about the cabins of the settlers, played with the dogs, slept in the sun, and bartered a few skins, which they had trapped, for grain and provisions. Apparently there was no thought or idea of violence. Opechancanough was friendly; his warriors were busy with fishing and hunting; and peace breathed its security over the soil of Virginia.
But the tempest of hatred and revenge, which had been gathering since the death of Powhatan, was to now break upon the devoted colony. Hiding his true intentions behind an aspect of friendliness and kindness, Opechancanough had made every preparation to exterminate the Colonists from England. He had silently passed the word to his warriors to make an attack upon the settlements upon the twenty-second day of March, 1622, and so carefully was the secret kept that not a word of the terrible news escaped to warn the defenseless whites. The various tribes, who banded themselves together for the attack, were stationed in the vicinity of several places where an advance against the settlements would be easy and swift. They were directed by Opechancanough to march with all speed to these stations—the day before the massacre—and, although the braves had to walk for great distances through a dense forest (guided only by the stars and moon), not a single straggler deserted the ranks of the Indians, nor did a single mistake occur. One by one—in single file—the warriors silently passed through the Virginianthickets, and, halting at short distances from the settlements, waited in the underbrush for the signal to advance.
In the early gray of this March morning, a redskin slipped silently through the wood from the clearing of a planter. He arrived at length to where his allies were crouching quietly in the shadows, and, raising his hand aloft, he said: "Ugh! Ugh! The time is good. Strike now!" Without further consultation, the long line of painted warriors slipped out from the forest into the clearing, rushed across the open space to the cabin of the settler who had dared to penetrate thus far into the wilderness, and soon a wild scream and savage warwhoop showed what had been the fate of the inhabitants. Flames soon burst from the roof—the log hut was ablaze—and, with loud screeches of joy, the Indian devils danced about the crumbling remains of the once peaceful home.
The savages knew exactly where every Englishman was to be found. Some entered the houses of their white friends, saying that they wished to trade. Others drew the owners out into the forest, telling them that they had skins there, which they wished to barter with them; and still others fell upon the Colonists as they were ploughing or working in the fields. The whites were totally unprepared and thoroughly surprised. Before they could think, they were seized, struck down, and murdered. In one short hour, and almost at the same time, three hundred men, women, and children were thus brutally dispatched, before they had an opportunity to seize anything to defend themselves with. Wild screams of terror went up in the wilderness, as the Indianscompleted their butchery, and there were none there who could aid the defenseless Colonists of Virginia.
But the Indians did not have an easy time with all the whites whom they attacked. When they rushed in upon Nathaniel Causie—an old soldier of Captain Smith's—he seized an axe, and, although wounded by several arrows, when a savage tried to stick a knife into him, he struck him such a blow with his weapon that he fairly cut him in two. This terrified the other Indians so that they fled, while Causie ran to the settlements farther inland to warn the whites of their peril. At a place called Warrasqueake, a Mr. Baldwin stood off about fifty braves with his musket, and by barricading himself in his house finally drove the savages away single-handed. Not far away from his home, two settlers held their house against sixty Indians, and hit so many of the screeching red men that the war party finally withdrew, falling upon the house of a stout old historian, called Ralph Hamer, who kept them off with a spade, armed his sons with pitchforks and axes, and, as the Indians had no guns, kept them away from his log hut, after a battle lasting over two hours. At Martin's Hundred a family of four persons hid in the cellar of their house and were entirely overlooked by the yelping warriors, although seventy-three of the English settlers were slain near by. With horrible yells of delight, the Indians mutilated the dead bodies of the slain and tortured the dying settlers with the cruelest of devices.
At Jamestown a fortunate incident occurred. A settler, living just opposite the town, had an Indian servant called Chanco. This red man's brother toldhim of the proposed attack on the day before the outbreak, so, running to his master, Chanco cried out, "Quick, quick, you must run away. Opechancanough, he come tomorrow with his men, and murder you."
"How do you know this, Chanco?" asked the startled Colonist.
"My brother, he tell me just now. Quick, to the settlements."
Now, believing what his servant told him, the settler ran to the shore, leaped into a boat, and rowing rapidly across the James River, warned the inhabitants of Jamestown of their peril. They quickly armed themselves, mounted their howitzers on the stockade, closed the gates, and presented such a formidable appearance to the followers of Opechancanough when they appeared before the walls next day, that they quickly withdrew into the forest.
The first attack was over, but war had just begun. The settlers deserted their cabins and gathered in the larger towns for mutual defense. Their smaller towns—like Henrico and Charles City—were abandoned, their scattered plantations were deserted, their iron works and glass works were given up, their fields of corn and vineyards were destroyed, and the men armed for revenge upon Opechancanough, the cruel. A body of soldiers was formed—called the Long Knives—who carried muskets and exceedingly sharp dirks which they would plunge into an Indian's hide with as much pleasure as they stuck them into the dead carcass of a deer. All but six plantations were left to their fate and there had been eighty prosperous farms on the James River.Three overseers and owners refused to leave their property, mounted cannon on stockades around their houses, armed their servants, and determined to give the Indians a severe drubbing if they ever dared to attack them. The forests and underbrush near all the houses of the whites were burned for several miles, so there would be no protection to the skulking savages, and these—not daring to make an attack in force—made short and sudden incursions on the settlements, carrying off corn, cattle, and sometimes unfortunate people. The whites gave the red men no quarter when they caught them. The Long Knives were as bloodthirsty as were the savages themselves.
So many whites had been captured by the Indians that the Governor at Jamestown finally sent some envoys to treat with Opechancanough for their exchange.
"I shall not do aught that you wish of me," replied the haughty Chief to the requests of the ambassadors. "Am I not King of this country? Do I not own it by direct descent from my parents? Does the Indian not hold this land from the Great Father? And, as for this picture of the Great Father of the English which you bring me," here he turned to a portrait of James the First which the envoys had given him, "to show my feelings for him, I hereby step on him." So saying, he threw the portrait upon the ground and put his foot so heavily upon the face of good King James that he broke it into a hundred portions. Thus, seeing that they could have no effect upon the irate monarch, the envoys withdrew to their canoes and paddled home to Jamestown, as angry as it is possible to conceive.
The imagination can well picture what the feelings of the settlers must have been at this time. Surrounded in the forest by a skulking foe who watched their movements with vindictive hatred, they feared to venture into the open unless in numbers and well armed. Forced to flee from their plantations, they huddled together in the stockaded towns like so many sheep, unable to till any fields save those in the vicinity of their own fortifications, and continually fired at (while ploughing or working upon their harvests) by the lurking savages. A few of their numbers had escaped from the hands of the Indians and had brought news of torture which made the blood boil and which the pen cannot picture. The smouldering ruins of their once peaceful homes dotted the surrounding country. Wives, sisters, children, had fallen before the ruthless tomahawk, and, stirred by feelings of the greatest hatred, the white men longed for an opportunity to have a fair fight with the crafty redskins; and so busily made bullets for serving in an advance into the land of the enemy.
In the autumn and winter of 1622, a series of attacks upon the savages was made by the irate white men. More Indians are said to have been slain at this time than had ever fallen before the hands of the English since the settlement of Jamestown. And the tactics employed by the Colonists do not show them to have been the men of sweet and gentle disposition which they are often said to have been, for, in order to get even with their red enemies, they availed themselves of a stratagem as cruel and treacherous as any which the Indiansutilized against the whites. A peace was offered to the followers of Opechancanough, which they accepted, and the understanding was had between red men and whites that the savages would be left alone while they planted and harvested their corn crop. So, believing in the word of the palefaces, the Indians tilled the soil, planted their corn, and were about to harvest it, when the English surrounded them, fell upon them in all directions at a given hour upon an appointed day, killed hundreds of the defenseless savages, and destroyed a vast quantity of provisions. Among these cruelly murdered were several of the most famous war captains, and for some time Opechancanough, himself, was said to be among the slain, a rumor which caused great rejoicing among the whites. But—after some months—it was learned that this crafty chieftain was still at large and as active as ever before.
"I shall yet have the head of this arch conspirator," cried Governor Wyatt, when news was brought him that Opechancanough was alive. "Come, men, we will march against this murderous varlet, raze his village to the ground, and chase him into the foothills of the Blue Ridge." He had no need to urge on the Virginian Long Knives; they were only too anxious for an opportunity to attack the despoiler of the peace of their adopted country, so, in the spring of 1625, a goodly body of stout rangers pushed into the forest in the direction of Pamunkey—the stronghold of the Chief of the Chickahominies. Their advance was cautious, stealthy, sure, yet, as they came to the vicinity of the Indian town, wild cries echoed from every side, they were shot at from thebrush, and, before they realized it, they were in a furious melée with the followers of Opechancanough. But the Long Knives knew how to fight in Indian fashion, and crouching behind logs and fallen trees, they soon began to pick off the screeching braves, who darted from tree to tree in the endeavor to dodge the straight shots of the palefaces. The fight was hot and furious. The Long Knives pressed on to Pamunkey, and, although the red men made a stout rally before the village, they were beaten back, only to see the smoke soon curling from their burning wigwams and storehouses. Governor Wyatt, in person, now urged on his men to a renewed attack on the braves, and, although the Indians were beaten off through the forest, the whites could not pursue them as far as Mattapony, only four miles distant, and the principal depot and rallying point of Opechancanough. Satisfied with the day's work, the English now retreated to their own settlements, leaving the Indians in full possession of their most valued town.
The war had now lasted for three years, and in spite of all their efforts, the English had not driven the Indians from their rallying places and settlements. "By heaven, they know how to fight," said stout Governor Wyatt, "and this Opechancanough is more than a match for us. But I will catch them again with the same stratagem which I used before, and I will wipe these treacherous war dogs from the soil of this country." So saying, he sent a proclamation to the Chickahominies and Pamunkies, requesting them to come to a certain place for a conference, where he intended to surround and capturemost of them. But the plan failed of success, and these Indians—under the direct guidance of Opechancanough—were more troublesome than ever. At this period they refused absolutely to have anything to do with either Wyatt or his representatives. The skirmishing went on for four years between the angry white men and the bloodthirsty red warriors, and at the end of that time, a march was made by the Indian braves towards Jamestown, which so alarmed the Governor that he collected every available man to stem the outbreak.
The two armies met in a stout skirmish soon afterwards. It was a hot fight, and, as usual, the Indians were worsted in the affair. They withdrew to the forest, beaten but not overawed, while the Colonists were too much injured to follow them. A peace commission was now sent to Opechancanough, but he refused to listen to any overtures from the whites. He scoffed at all ideas of a settlement of the difficulties which lay between himself and the Colonists, and withdrew in sullen anger into the forest. "By all that I love," cried Governor Wyatt, "I will force this fellow to treat with me," and sending a large armed force towards Pamunkey, some time later, he secured a temporary truce with the fierce Opechancanough. But so little dependence was placed on it, that, while the commissioners on both sides were adjusting the preliminaries, a proclamation was issued by the Governor which forbade the Colonists from either parleying or trading with the Indians. The truce was understood to be only a temporary affair, yet for nine years no further hostilities occurred between the settlers from England and the red men. Meanwhilemore and more white Colonists came to Virginia. The settlements rapidly increased in size, while the Indians, through disease and lack of medical knowledge, did not increase with any great rapidity.
Opechancanough was not yet a friend to the white man, although he was apparently upon friendly and peaceable terms with the Colonists. Nursing his anger and resentment, he remained at his home in the forest, meditating upon the best means for expelling the English from the country and secretly forming a plan for another massacre of the plantation owners. Moody, vindictive, sour, the old Chieftain would sit gloomily before his wigwam, speculating upon the future and dreaming of the cheerful moment when he would be able to have Virginia for his own people. Thus he brooded, while dissensions grew among the Colonists and an insurrection against the Governor of Virginia took place among the English. The time had again come for Opechancanough to strike. The moment had arrived which he had waited for through nine long years, and, rousing himself from the torpor which had held him for this period, he determined upon a great and decisive blow which would rid him forever of the accursed English.
The great Chieftain was now very aged. His voice shook as he gave his orders. Yet, when he had sent out word for a gathering of his warriors, his commands were taken to the very remotest tribes of his confederacy with speed and accuracy. As in the first outbreak, he again determined to attack the scattered settlements at a certain time, to station large forces near the pointsto be assaulted, and to give the more distant posts to the leading Chiefs of the several nations in his confederacy of Indian tribes. He, himself, was to lead the advance against the settlements nearest to Mattapony; the whole Indian force was to assemble without making any noise, and if any brave was found who had breathed a word of the conspiracy, he was to be immediately shot to death and all his family with him. The whites were to be completely annihilated, and no quarter was to be shown to either women, children, or aged persons. It was a great design, well thought out, carefully concealed, and thoroughly prepared. Let us see how it succeeded.
When the signal for attack was given, the hidden warriors poured forth from the forest, and swept down upon the plantations like a flight of locusts. As in the massacre many years before, the Colonists were totally unprepared for this sudden advance, and, at first, hundreds of them fell before the raiding parties of the bloodthirsty red men. Five hundred men, women, and children perished under the tomahawks of the followers of Opechancanough: the scourge of Virginia. Many others were carried away in captivity. Their log houses, supplies of corn, household utensils, farming instruments, and live stock were destroyed. Their houses were burned with all that they contained. Only a few, who lived in the remotest plantations, were able to make an escape to the more thickly populated portions of Virginia and warn the inhabitants that the Indians were again upon the war path. Dissensions among the Colonists were speedily forgotten. Under the dread of a frightful slaughter, the settlers, who had been warringwith each other, determined to march together against the red men. Their ploughs were left in the furrows. All who were able to bear arms were enrolled in a militia in defense of the Colony, and a chosen body, under the command of Governor Berkeley, marched into the enemy's country. Blood was in their eyes, and in their hearts was the one word—revenge.
The fighting which now occurred was bloody. No historian has left a record of it, but we can well imagine how the infuriated Englishmen fell upon the followers of Opechancanough when they found them. The Indians were checked in their advance upon the peaceful settlers. They were beaten back, defeated again and again, and were forced to give up their invasion. Berkeley's troops were light-armed and lightly dressed, so that they could move with speed against the little warriors of the forest. Some of them had horses and on these they could often head off the flying redskins and effect their capture. They did great damage and often routed the followers of Opechancanough when the battle which they were fighting with the English was very even.
As for Opechancanough, himself, he had become extremely feeble and decrepit from old age and was unable to walk. Borne about on a litter by four stout braves, he directed the fighting of his warriors and, although weak in body, still possessed a proud and imperious spirit. His flesh became macerated, his sinews lost their elasticity, and his eyelids were so heavy that he could not see, unless they were lifted up by the hands of his faithful attendants. In this forlorncondition he was directing the course of a battle, when Berkeley's horse burst through the thicket in the rear of his men, and, terrified by fear of capture, his own attendants were forced to run away. The great Chief was left upon the ground, and soon a cheering body of Colonists stood around him, howling with the pleasure of having taken—after years of attempt—the bold, resolute Chief of the Chickahominies and their allied tribes. By special command of Governor Berkeley he was carefully carried to Jamestown, where people crowded around in wonder to see the fallen monarch of the Virginian wildwood.
The English had now lost their vindictive hatred for this wily monarch. They saw the man who had inspired such terror in a forlorn and abject condition. Shattered by age and misfortune, he presented a sorry appearance, as he lay, half dead, upon the litter of boughs and deerskins which his own people had fashioned for him. To the honor of the Colonists, they treated the distinguished captive with tenderness and the respect which his appearance and talents demanded, while he, himself, was as proud and haughty as a Roman Emperor. He uttered no complaint or showed no uneasiness at his capture. Fearing that he would be tortured, he showed no humility, and was imperious, defiant, and spirited in his language and demeanor. So, he lay, curiously gazed upon by the gaping Colonists, and eagerly watched by the soldiers who had effected his capture.
Opechancanough reclined thus for several days attended by his affectionate Indian servants, who hadbegged permission to wait upon him. He was near ninety years of age, and it is said that Governor Berkeley proposed to take him to England, as a living argument to counteract the representations made by some persons in that country, that Virginian climate was too unhealthy for any one to gain long life who resided there. The great Chief was reserved and silent, and, as if anxious to show his English enemies that there was nothing in their presence to even arouse his curiosity, he rarely allowed his attendants to raise his eyelids. Thus he was lying, when one of the soldiers set to guard him raised his gun, and, in a spirit of revenge for all the suffering which the great Chieftain had caused, shot him through the back. He was grievously wounded, but did not die immediately.
To the last moment of his life, the haughty Opechancanough preserved the dignity and serenity of his bearing. He made no murmur of pain or fear and stolidly awaited the end which was rapidly approaching. Only a few moments before he expired he heard an unusual amount of noise in the room where he lay, and requesting his attendants to raise his eyelids, saw a number of Colonists crowding around him in order to gratify their curiosity and amazement. The dying Chieftain raised himself weakly upon one arm, and, with a voice and air of authority, asked that Governor Berkeley be immediately called in. When the latter made his appearance, Opechancanough cried out, in a thin and trembling voice: "Had it been my fortune, sir, to have taken Sir William Berkeley prisoner, I should never have exposed you as a show for my people."
A few hours later the mighty Sachem breathed his last, amid the weepings and lamentations of his Indian attendants. He had been an implacable enemy to the whites; he had led two fairly successful insurrections against them, and he had been the cause of untold misery and suffering. Yet, he felt that his cause was a just one; he saw that he must either exterminate the English or they would exterminate his own people, and he fought for the preservation of his race. His own countrymen were more under his control than under that of Powhatan, himself, and they considered him to be in no way related to Powhatan, but represented him as a prince of a foreign nation, come from a great distance somewhere in the southwest: probably Mexico. He has been called by some a politic and haughty prince, and one English statesman has named him the Hannibal of Virginia. At any rate he was a man of influence, power, and ability. His record is a good one for an Indian, and had his followers been possessed of the knowledge of civilization and warfare which the white men held, there is little doubt that Virginia, for many years, would have been the exclusive habitation of the redskins. Peace to the ashes of misguided and unfortunate Opechancanough of Virginia. He fought for a cause which, from his viewpoint, was as just as that of his conquerors. He was never captured in battle until old age made it impossible for him to escape, and he died by a foul and unexpected blow, from one of a race which should be well ashamed of such a deed.
The English are an adventurous people and none were more so than burly Captain Stone, a hardy mariner, who, in the summer of 1633, made a coastwise trip from Maine to Virginia in a little schooner. Attracted by the broad harbor of the Connecticut River, he sailed by the rocky bluffs at the entrance and was soon gliding between the green hills which roll back from either side of the sparkling waters of the stream. Charmed by the peaceful scene, he kept on drifting up the winding water course, until he finally dropped anchor beneath a headland covered with the sweet-scented bushes of the sumach and wild plum.
"It seems that this is a likely place for the partridge or grouse," said one of the seamen, as the ship lay peacefully at anchor on the quiet water. "What say you, good Captain, if I and two others go ashore with our fowling pieces to look for game?"
"Good," answered the stout Captain, "and if you see a deer, be sure and bring it down, for we are much in need of fresh meat upon our vessel."
"All right, we will go at once," said the seaman, and, quickly selecting two companions who armed themselves with flintlocks, the sporting sea-dogs were soonashore. That night they did not come back, but, thinking that they had wandered off in the quest of venison, Captain Stone did not give the matter a second thought.
When morning dawned, a canoe, filled with Indians, was seen coming from the shore. "How! How!" said the red men, when the canoe came near the ship. "We bring presents to white man. We want to see big house on water."
A Sachem of the Pequot Indians was in the bow of the birch-bark boat, and, as he smiled in a friendly fashion, the Captain gave orders that he should be allowed to come on board with all his dozen men. Not long afterwards, he was agreeably conversing with them in his cabin. The crew were in the cook room, getting their luncheon, when, overcome by the drowsy heat of the day, and with no suspicion that the redskins were other than peaceful braves, the Captain fell asleep in his bunk.
Silently the Indians sneaked to the cupboard—where the muskets were kept—and seized them. Then, when all were passed to the waiting braves, the Sachem crept over to the sleeping Captain Stone, and, with one swift blow, brained him with his hatchet. Immediately his followers rushed to the small room where the crew were peacefully eating, and, aiming at them through the window, shot at those who were nearest. All leaped to their feet and made a rush for the door in order to grapple with their assailants. Three lay groaning upon the floor, as the rest rushed upon the vindictive savages who, using their knives and spears, cut at the sailors with cruel vengeance. A desperate struggle commenced.
The whites and Pequots struggled back and forthupon the narrow deck, which now grew slippery with blood. More than one savage was knocked overboard, but, as they outnumbered the crew, it was plainly evident that the outcome of the struggle would be in their favor. Suddenly, a loud report was heard. The decks flew asunder from the force of an explosion below. The splitting timbers belched outwards upon the blue waters of the quiet stream, and, with a muffled roar, both red men and white were shot into the water. Some clung to the wreckage, some hung on to the canoe and boats, as—in lurid flames and black smoke—the remains of the little schooner were burned to the water's edge. But, although hurled into the water, most of the Pequots escaped, were picked up by their companions, and paddled back in the canoes and ship's boats to complete the massacre. When night came, only a few charred timbers, floating upon the surface of the Connecticut, were left to mark the scene of the tragedy.
This was in 1633, when the Puritans were well established at Plymouth and Boston, and were continually pushing into the interior to find good farm lands. Sassacus was Chief Sachem of the warlike Pequots, and, in spite of this massacre, sent a messenger to the Governor of Massachusetts—in the year following—to gain his friendship and alliance. His emissary brought two large bundles of sticks with him and a large quantity of wampum. "I will give as many skins of the beaver and otter as I send pieces of wood," was the message which King Sassacus sent to the Chief Executive of Massachusetts, "and I wish your friendship and allegiance. Will you sign a treaty with me?"
"I return you a fine moose-skin coat," answered the Governor to this request, "but I cannot make a treaty with you unless you send proper warriors for me to treat with, and enough of them. Furthermore, your men have murdered Captain Stone, my friend, and I can make no peace with you until you deliver to me the Pequots who killed him and his men."
Sassacus was a warrior of high renown. He had twenty-six sachems, or war captains, under his control, and could muster—at any time—seven hundred warriors. His residence was upon the Atlantic, at Groton, Connecticut, and near the Mystic River he had a splendid stronghold, situated upon a verdant eminence, which gradually descended to the waters of the sparkling stream. He and his men looked upon the English as intruders, who had no right to come to the soil of Connecticut. But, as the intrepid Sassacus had warred with the Dutch at New York, so that they had cut off his trade with them, he wished to now gain the good will of the English, near Boston. The Pequots were men of the utmost independence of spirit and had conquered most of the smaller tribes lying around them. They called these people whom they captured "women" and "cowards."
"Your Captain Stone took two of our men," said the emissary from Sassacus. "He detained them by force and made them pilot him up the river. The Captain and the crew then landed, taking the guides on shore, with their hands bound behind them. The Pequots next fell upon the white men and killed them. The vessel, with the remainder of the crew, was blown up, I do not know why, nor wherefore."
This was a pretty good story, and as the Governor of Massachusetts could not substantiate his own side, he was inclined to believe it, for he had no means of proving its falsity. So a treaty was concluded, with the following terms:
I. The English to have such land in Connecticut as they needed, provided they would make a settlement there; and the Pequots to render them all the assistance that they could.
II. The Pequots to give the English four hundred fathoms of wampum, forty beaver and thirty otter skins, and to surrender the two murderers whenever they should be sent for.
III. The English to send a vessel immediately, to trade with them, as friends, but not to fight them, and the Pequots would give them all their custom.
Having signed this document, the emissary from Sassacus and his companion started back on their five days' journey to the habitation of their Chief. But, unfortunately for them, the Pequots were then at war with the Narragansetts, and a party of about two hundred and fifty warriors of the latter tribe had come as far as Neponset (the boundary between Milton and Dorchester) for the avowed purpose of waylaying and killing the two Pequots on their way home. Learning of this, the Governor sent an armed force to request a visit from these Narragansett braves, and two Sachems—with about twenty men—obeyed the summons. "We have been hunting around the country," said they, "and came to visit the Indians at Neponset, according to old custom. We meant no harm to the Pequots. Theycan go home in safety." And they kept good this promise, so that the two Pequots made their return trip in perfect security.
For two years white settlers moved into Connecticut, and took up farms in the most fertile places. But the Indians were soon unfriendly. An Englishman named Oldham, who had been trading in Connecticut, was murdered by a party of Block Island braves, several of whom were said—by the frontier settlers—to have taken refuge among the Pequots, who gave them ample protection. When the Governor of Massachusetts heard of this, he was exceedingly wroth, for Oldham was a resident of Dorchester and was a friend of his. So, ordering Captain Endicott of the State Militia to appear before him, he said:
"I commission you, good sir, to put to death the redskins of Block Island, with ninety of our soldiers. Spare the women and children, but bring them away and take possession of the Island. Then go to the Pequots and demand the murderers of Captain Stone, Oldham, and other Englishmen who have been killed, and one thousand fathom of wampum for damages. Also get some of their children as hostages, which, if they refuse, you must take by force."
Endicott was not long in starting upon his mission, and soon had captured Block Island and burned the villages of the natives. He then sailed for Pequot Harbor, where a warrior of the army under Sassacus came out in a canoe to demand who the intruders were. The River Thames, where now the rival crews of Yale and Harvard struggle for supremacy on the water,emptied into this harbor, and upon either bank were the homes of the Indians.
"I wish to see Sassacus, your Chief," said Endicott.
"He has gone to Long Island," the Indian replied.
"Then I wish to speak with the next in authority," continued the leader of the Massachusetts troops, "and I wish to have the murderers of Oldham given up to my care."
The Pequot brave did not reply and paddled to the shore, followed by the English troops, who landed and stood—fully armed—a short distance from the beach. The Indians in numbers gathered around them, but the head Sachem did not put in an appearance. "He will come," said the fellow who had been in the canoe, "if you English will lay down your arms. We will, at the same time, leave our bows and arrows at a distance."
But Endicott grew angry at this, as he believed it to be a pretext for gaining time. "Begone, you Pequots," he thundered. "You have dared the English to come and fight you, and we are ready." The Indians withdrew to a short distance, and then the leader of the whites ordered his men to advance. A shower of arrows poured upon them, as they did so, but the English discharged a hot volley which killed several and wounded fully twenty of the redskins. At this they fled, while the troops pressed on to their village and burned it to the ground.
At night the little army returned to the five ships which had brought them, and next day they went ashore upon the west side of the river and burned all the wigwams and smashed all the canoes of the Pequots' familieswho lived upon the bank of the Thames. The Indians shot at them from behind rocks and trees, but their arrows did little damage, and so, with the loss of not a single man, the troops set sail for Boston. "They came home all safe," says a historian, "which was a marvelous providence of God, that not a hair fell from the head of any of them, nor were there any sick or wounded in the little army."
Sassacus was now infuriated with the whites. In retaliation for this attack upon his people, he ordered war upon the white settlers of Connecticut. The forts and settlements of the English were assaulted in every direction. No boat could pass up and down the Connecticut River in safety. The hard-working farmers could neither hunt, fish, nor cultivate their lands. People went armed to their work in the fields and to church on Sunday, while a guard was stationed outside the meeting houses during service. At the mouth of the Connecticut River, the English had a fortification, called Fort Saybrook. In October five of the garrison were surprised and killed, as they were carrying in some hay from a field near by. Not long afterwards several vessels were captured, and the sailors were tortured by the Pequots. Saybrook Fort was besieged, the outhouses were burned, and the few cattle that were not killed often came in at night with the arrows of the Pequot warriors sticking in their sides. Early in March four of the garrison were caught outside the walls of the fort and massacred, while a horde of red warriors surrounded the stockade on all sides, challenging the English to come out and fight in the open, mocking them with catcalls,groans, hisses, and imitations of the screams of those whom they had captured, and boasting that the Pequots would soon drive all the English into the sea. They would often rush up to the gate in the endeavor to gain an entrance, but a discharge of grapeshot from a cannon made them retreat into the timber.
It is said that a Puritan, or a New Englander, is slow to anger, but once get him aroused and he will fight as no other man can fight on earth. This is what put an end to Sassacus. For when the savage marauders threatened Agawam (Springfield), Hartford and Windsor, and carried off several women from Wethersfield, the Massachusetts colony sent an army of ninety men to Saybrook Fort, commanded by Captain John Mason, an experienced and able soldier. A body of Mohegan Indians, under Uncas, joined them here, for they were unfriendly to Sassacus, as he and his savage Pequots had often killed the members of this tribe. They were to prove of little value in the campaign, but their presence added a spirit of confidence to the English soldiers.
At the head of the Mystic River, where now is the thriving town of Stonington, Connecticut, Sassacus had his principal fortification. It was really a large Indian town, surrounded by a stout palisade, and was crowded with men, women and children. Mason decided to attack it, but, being a good soldier, determined to throw the watchful Pequots off his scent. He, therefore, first sailed down to the Pequot (Thames) River, and pretended to land at its mouth. The savages were closely watching him, and when, instead of landing, he boreaway to the southward and coasted along the Narragansett Bay, the natives thought that he was in retreat. "Ugh! Ugh!" said the warriors. "He little heart. He no fight! We brave men. We can beat all the English in the country!"
But Mason was a shrewd campaigner, and dropping anchor at a point in the bay, where he was protected from the prying eyes of the Pequot scouts, he lay to for some time, and then landed his soldiers through the heavy surf which was then raging. Marching inland, he stopped at a fort of the friendly Narragansetts, under Canonicus and Miantonomo, who were cold and distrustful, saying: "We doubt that such a small body of you English can carry the strong palisades of Sassacus. But we will help you when you advance upon them tomorrow." Mason had so little confidence in the word of these allies that he surrounded the fort, that evening, with a strong guard, fearing that the Indians would betray his approach to the Pequots.