Chapter VIII

THE PEQUOD WAR, AND THE FIRST SETTLEMENTS IN CAROLINA,
GEORGIA, AND PHILADELPHIA.

WE left the New England colonies on the eve of the first great Indian war, which originated in the jealousy of the Pequods――a fierce race living between the Narragansetts and Mohegans of New England and the Iroquois of the East――at the sudden influx of foreigners into the fertile districts of Connecticut. Although, strictly speaking, it is scarcely within our province, we will give an outline of this terrible struggle, affording, as it does, a typical example of the general policy pursued toward each other by the natives and settlers in the New World.

As early as 1634, a Captain Stone had been murdered, with all his crew, off Fort Good Hope, a Dutch outpost of Connecticut; and in the two years which followed, aggressions and robberies on the part of the Pequods were of frequent occurrence. The crisis was not reached, however, until 1636, when our old friend, Captain Oldham, fell a victim to the fury of the Indians. The details of this second tragedy will never be known, and it is more than possible that the outrage may not have been altogether unprovoked, the captain having been a man of hasty temper, disposed to carry matters with the natives with a very high hand.

Oldham was last seen alive starting in a vessel of his own on a trading excursion up the Connecticut River, and a little later a fisherman named Gallop, at work on Block Island, caught sight of the boat drifting out to sea, crowded with Indians, who were evidently at a total loss how to manage their capture. In a moment Gallop, accompanied by one man and two boys, started in pursuit; the vessel was boarded, and, without pausing to inquire into the rights of the matter, the four newcomers laid about them right and left, till the Indians were driven off, leaving many of their number dead or dying on the deck.

This summary vengeance inflicted, Gallop looked about him for its justification, and found Oldham and his men lying in their own blood, covered with ghastly wounds. The news of their death spread like wildfire far and near; and though, to the calm judgment of lookers-on, reconciliation with the Pequods still seemed possible to those who were exposed to a fate such as that which had overtaken the Puritan captain, nothing short of the extermination of the whole tribe of the offenders appeared to meet the necessities of the case. The colonial leaders, however, observed the forms of civilized warfare, and, before a blow was struck, formally demanded the yielding up of the murderers of Stone and Oldham, with the restitution of all property stolen from the whites. As we know, those who had slain Oldham had most of them shared his fate. Evasive answers were returned as to the murderers of Stone and the stolen property, and it appeared evident that nothing could be accomplished by negotiation.

In August, 1636, hostilities commenced by the dispatch to Block Island of one hundred men, under the command of John Endicott of Salem, whose orders were that he should kill all the Pequod warriors he met with, but spare their women and children. A landing was effected on Block Island in the midst of a shower of arrows, and a fierce struggle ensued, in which only one Englishman was wounded. The Indians were hopelessly defeated, and fled into woods and fields of the island, where they were soon overtaken by the English, who put them to death without mercy. Not content with this wholesale slaughter, Endicott also burned two villages of sixty wigwams each, the stacks of maize in the course of being harvested, and all the standing corn, so that the unlucky Pequods who had escaped the sword would be compelled either to starve or to flee their country.

The massacre of Block Island over, Endicott repaired to the mainland, where dwelt the warriors who had murdered Stone. Halting at the mouth of the Pequod River, now the Thames, the English leader sent a message to the natives, demanding that Sassacus, their chief, should be sent to him immediately; and when no answer was returned, the attack was begun. As on Block Island, the natives fell an easy prey to the well-armed white men; and having slain all he found, and burned their villages, Endicott set sail for Boston, where he arrived safely, after an absence of one month only.

Illustration: JOHN ENDICOTT.

Thanksgivings were held in all the churches, in gratitude for the “signal mercy” which had preserved the little band of avengers, of whom two only had been left behind, in their terrible work; but that work had in reality only begun. The unhappy survivors of the “signal mercy,” driven to bay, had joined the inland members of their tribe, and the tale of the two massacres at which Endicott had presided roused a deadly enmity against the whites throughout the length and breadth of Pequod land; nay more, even the Narragansetts and the Mohegans, who had long since sworn allegiance to the English, and were the bitter foes of the Pequods, began to show signs of making common cause with the sufferers. Had they done so, the very existence of the colonies would have been in peril, and the history of the United States of America might never have begun.

It was our old friend, Roger Williams, who saved from extermination the brethren who had cast him out from among them. More familiar than any other emigrant with the ways of the Indian, he read the signs of the times truly, and determined, at whatever risk to himself, to prevent the coalition of the Pequods with the Mohegans and Narragansetts. To quote his own account of the matter――“The Lord helped me immediately to put my life into my hand, and, scarce acquainting my wife, to ship myself, all alone, in a poor canoe, and to cut through a stormy wind with great seas, every minute in hazard of life, to the sachem’s (the Narragansett chief’s) house. Three days and nights,” he adds, “my business forced me to lodge and mix with the bloody Pequod ambassadors (come to agree on the terms of alliance against the whites), whose hands and arms, methought, reeked with the blood of my countrymen.”

At the end of the three days Williams had effected his purpose, and, instead of an alliance with the Pequods, the Narragansetts had made a new treaty with the English. The Mohegans followed their example, and, their forces augmented by many a dusky warrior, the white men of Connecticut, under Captain John Mason, shortly sallied forth once more against the common foe, their destination this time being the chief stronghold of the Pequods, a fort near the present town of Stringbow, on the Pawcatuk River. The fort was surprised at night, and though the Indians fought with desperate courage, and at one time seemed likely to be victorious, they were finally overwhelmed. Their wigwams were then set on fire, and six hundred men, women, and children perished in the flames. The morning broke on a scene of terrible misery; yet the cup of Pequod disaster was not yet full. As the English, who had again lost but two men, were resting from their horrible night’s work, six hundred native warriors were seen advancing proudly toward the ruins of their homes.

Arrived within sight of their desolate village, the unhappy Pequods are said to have paused for one moment in silent agony, and then, with a yell of rage and despair, to have swept down upon the invaders, many of whom were slain in the first onslaught, though the final result to the Pequods was but a repetition of previous struggles. All but a little remnant were slain without mercy, and, returning red-handed to Saybrook, at the mouth of the Connecticut, the victors were joined by a number of recruits from Massachusetts, whose arrival had been delayed by the excitement caused in the parent colony by the expulsion of Anne Hutchinson for heresy.

Thus reënforced, the Connecticut settlers hunted the survivors of the original owners of the soil down like beasts of prey. Their chief, Sassacus, fled in his despair to the Mohawks, who betrayed his trust by murdering him, and sending his scalp to the English; and in July, 1637, five months after the beginning of the war, the last scene of the long tragedy took place in a swamp where stands the modern town of Fairfield. Three hundred Pequod warriors were there surrounded, and while many were slain and some few escaped, two hundred were taken prisoners alive. In spite of their eager entreaties for death, the unhappy men were sent, some of them to the Bermudas as slaves, and the remainder dispersed among the Mohegans and Narragansetts, to be to them “hewers of wood and drawers of water.”

While the Pequod war was still in progress, a fresh colony arrived at Boston from England, including John Davenport and Theophilus Eaton, men of wealth and social station, whom the Massachusetts authorities would gladly have retained among them. There were, however, now no good lands to spare for new-comers near the old settlements, and it was absolutely necessary for them to seek some other home. At the close of the war, therefore, Eaton and Davenport led their little band into Connecticut, where a tract of land, south of the settlement of Saybrook, had been already purchased for them of the native chief for “twelve coats of English cloth, twelve alchemy spoons, twelve hatchets, twelve hoes, two dozen knives, twelve porringers, and four cases of French knives and scissors.”

Originally called Quinniack, or Quinnepaca, the new settlement shortly received the name of New Haven, and grew with a rapidity hitherto unknown in colonial annals. From among its wealthy members, one after another went forth to found new towns in its neighborhood, until, in a very short time, Connecticut was colonized all along the shore and far inland. This great movement was further supplemented by the constant arrival of new recruits, alike from the mother country and the elder colonies of Massachusetts, and we soon find the English pushing their outposts as far south as the Hudson, gradually displacing the Dutch, and again driving the Indians to desperation. In 1643, the settlements in Massachusetts, New Hampshire and Connecticut formed that league, under the title of the United Colonies of New England, for mutual protection against the Dutch, French and Indians, which may be looked upon as the opening of the first chapter of the political history of the United States; but for the continuation of that history we must refer our readers to the many volumes on the subject already in existence. Our task being to trace the gradual opening up of new districts, we must leave the infant federation to fight out its battles, alike with its European neighbors, the schismatics within its own borders, and the true owners of the disputed territories, unwatched by us. We return once more to the South, to find the districts between Virginia and Florida occupied under the name of Carolina, so-called in honor of Charles IX. of France, by a few non-conformists from England and Virginia, who had gathered about the promontory aptly named Cape Fear (N. lat. 33° 48′) where they hoped to work out their own salvation, free from the temptation of the world they had renounced. Their expectations were, as a matter of course, disappointed. After the English Restoration, Charles II. re-asserted his claim to that part of America long known under the general name of South Virginia, and granted the fertile districts between Albemarle Sound (N. lat. 35° 59′), and the river St. John (N. lat. 30° 23′), to eight of his favorite noblemen, the terms of concession making them absolute sovereigns within the limits named.

The result of this arbitrary proceeding was a mighty influx of emigrants, from every part of Great Britain and its dependencies, to the fruitful lands which had long been claimed as their exclusive property by the Spaniards. The original proprietors were literally crowded out by “gay cavaliers” and rapacious planters, who soon made the very name of white man hateful in the ears of the unfortunate Indians. Under the governorship of the terrible Seth Sothel, a man whose name will live forever as that of the most infamous of many reckless rulers of Carolina, the natives were hunted down on every side, and sold as slaves to West Indian planters, while those among the emigrants who retained any reverence for the human or divine had their feelings outraged at every turn.

Not until the 18th century was considerably advanced did the Carolineans obtain any relief from this terrible state of things. Petition after petition was sent to the mother country by the unhappy sufferers, setting forth how the Indians were “assaulted, killed, destroyed, and taken” under the sanction of the law; how even the clergy openly led the most dissolute lives, etc., etc. The breaking out of an Indian war in 1715 seems to have been the first thing to arouse the home authorities to the dangers threatening their vast possessions in the West. The revolt was crushed with an iron hand, the survivors of the natives taking refuge in the swamps of Florida, and in 1721, George I. consented to take the government of Carolina into his own hands.

A few years later, the lands granted to the eight noblemen by Charles II. were bought up by the Crown for some £28,000; and from that time the colony grew rapidly in prosperity and importance, extending its settlements as far south as the Savannah river, across which went forth pioneers into the state afterward called Georgia, in honor of the English monarch, long before the first body of emigrants from the mother country landed on its shores. Thus, as New England and Virginia may be said to have been the parents of Carolina, the new-born colony became in its turn the founder of the infant community of Georgia. It was in 1732 that this, the youngest but one of the original thirteen states of the Union, was first settled by a colony from England, under the leadership of the now famous Oglethorpe, who, like John Eliot in the North, made it his chief object to conciliate the Indians.

Soon after the arrival of the emigrants from Europe, Oglethorpe succeeded in bringing about a congress between the so-called Creek Indians and the English, near the site of the modern Savannah, at which meeting peace was solemnly made between the dark warriors and their pale-faced guests. This treaty between the Creek Indians and the whites was succeeded by one with the Cherokees dwelling on the north of the new settlements, and as a policy of a similar kind was pursued with regard to religious refugees from other English settlements, Georgia shortly became a kind of harbor of refuge for all who were suffering in mind, body or estate. Its progress in worldly prosperity, though slow, was sure; and, when the treaty of 1763 concluded a war of triumph for the English, it had extended its limits far away to the South, the West, and the North-west, in spite of many a bloody contest, now with the Spanish, and now with the various Indian tribes in the West.

Illustration: WILLIAM PENN.

We have now accounted for the first appearance of the white man in all the districts of North America bordering on the Atlantic seaboard, and are free to turn our steps inland, joining, as our first hero in this new field, the great Quaker, William Penn. He was the founder of the “Keystone State,” which forms the connecting link between the first French settlements on the Great Lakes and those of the Dutch and English in the United States.

It was in 1681, after a stormy career in England, that Penn first turned his attention to the New World, and obtained from the English Crown, in lieu of a large sum of money due to him from it, a grant of an extensive tract of land, encroaching alike on the boundaries of New York, New Jersey, and Maryland. It was included between the 40th and 43d degrees of north latitude, and was bounded on the east by the Delaware, already connected with so many thrilling memories.

Determined, with that rigid sense of honesty which characterized his sect, to appropriate nothing unfairly, Penn, before he started himself, sent out agents to purchase from the Indians the land upon which he proposed settling; and all things being thus prepared for his advent, he set sail from England, arriving at Newcastle, on the Delaware, in October, 1682. Here he was most enthusiastically received, his fame as a sufferer for righteousness’ sake, and as an eager philanthropist, having preceded him.

A day of general rejoicing was succeeded by a solemn leave-taking of the colonists, and then, embarking on the broad waters of the Delaware, Penn made what resembled a royal progress from one station to another, till he came, toward the end of November, to the borders of his own dominions. His first act on landing in Pennsylvania, as the new districts had already been christened, was to hold a solemn meeting with the Indian chiefs, and make with them that treaty of peace which was followed by such excellent results for his people. Beneath a large elm tree at Shackamaxon, on the site of the modern Kensington, the sons of the forest, hitherto accustomed to very different treatment from the white man, awaited the approach of him whom they looked upon as a messenger from the Great Spirit in awe-struck silence. As Penn approached, the oldest sachem rose and bade him welcome, adding that the nations of the Delaware were ready to listen to his words.

“We meet,” replied Penn, as he stood a little in advance of the chief of his colonists, “on the broad pathway of good works and good will; no advantage shall be taken on either side, but all shall be openness and love. I will not call you children, for parents sometimes chide their children too severely; nor brothers only, for brothers differ. The friendship between you and me I will not compare to a chain, for that the rains might rust, or a falling tree break. We are the same as if one man’s body were divided into two parts; we are all one flesh and blood.”

This speech, which has become historical, and is proudly quoted in every account of the founding of Philadelphia, appealed direct to the very hearts of those to whom it was addressed. Here, at last, was one who owned true fellowship with them, who would feel as they felt, who would protect them, and, better still, whom they themselves could aid. Again their spokesman stood forth, and, in the name of every tribe, from the Schuylkill and the Delaware, the Susquehanna and the Juniatta, replied, “We will live in love with Father Onas (the native name given to Penn) and his children, as long as moon and sun shall endure.” The treaty between the two parties was then signed, the Indians adding the emblem of their tribes to the names of the white men; presents were exchanged, and the solemn scene was at an end. We may add, however, that the peace thus cemented was, unlike most compacts with the sons of the soil, preserved inviolate as long as the Quakers ruled in Pennsylvania, and to it was mainly due the unexampled rapidity of the growth of the new settlement.

Illustration: PENN’S TREATY WITH THE INDIANS.

Penn’s next care, after his interview with the Indians, was to call together the emigrants――the greater number of whom were of his own religious persuasion――and present them with their constitution, framed so as to insure alike political and religious freedom; a fact resulting in the flocking to his settlement of persecuted members of every sect from the New England and Virginia colonies. In January, 1683, the foundations were laid, on the west bank of the Delaware and at the mouth of the Schuylkill, of that fair town, now the second in importance in the Union, called Philadelphia, or the “City of Brotherly Love,” the streets of which were named after the groves of chestnut, pine, and walnut trees through which they ran.

Before the end of its first year, the infant city contained eighty houses, and four years after its foundation it numbered 2,000 inhabitants. As the years rolled on, and the mineral and agricultural wealth of the western districts of Pennsylvania became more and more fully revealed, town after town sprang up within its boundaries. In the beginning of the 18th century, we find John Harris founding the beautiful Harrisburg, under a grant from Penn, in the midst of the magnificent scenery on the left bank of the Susquehanna, and though the French and Indian war which broke out in 1754 checked for a moment, as it were, the laying out of new cities, the now flourishing town of Pittsburg rose on the site of Fort Duquesne, at the junction of the Alleghany and Monongahela Rivers, as soon as the victory of Forbes in 1758 established the power of the British.

Illustration: THE TEA IN BOSTON HARBOR.

In 1774, the quarrels between the mother country and her now mighty American colonies――of which the most thrilling incidents were the Stamp Act riots of Boston in 1768, and the revolt against the payment of the tea dues in the same city in 1773, when the boys of Boston, disguised as Indians, flung the cargoes of tea into the sea to prevent the payment of the tax――resulted in the War of Independence, during which, strange to say, took place those first explorations of Kentucky, Tennessee, and Ohio which were to add so greatly to the power of the American Union about to be formed. But before we join the pioneers of the new era of discovery in the West, we must turn once more to the South, to bring our account of the work of the French down to the important date we have reached in the history of their English rivals in the East.

Illustration: INDIAN ORNAMENTS.