Chapter V: Part 5

At length, they came in sight of a country studded with numerous villages. Here Patofa and his men stole out of the camp by night, assaulted a temple, and massacred every Indian in it, taking their scalps as trophies, to be carried to their cacique, Cofaqui. After laying waste the country for many leagues, slaying and scalping every man, woman, and child, sacking and pillaging villages and temples, and even breaking into the sepulchres,--Patofa and his followers returned home, laden with spoils, and pleased with having fulfilled the promise made to the cacique.

De Soto had now reached the dominions of the kind princess Cofachiqui, which doubtless formed a part of the present State of Georgia;[5] but as the Indians here, and even farther on, belonged to the Florida tribes, and as the country itself constituted a portion of the territory originally called Florida, it will be proper to give some account of them in this connection. We therefore pursue the narrative of De Soto’s march through this region.

The next place mentioned in the story of the adventurers is the province of Achalaque, said, by the narrator, to be the most wretched in all Florida. The inhabitants were a feeble, peaceful race, nearly naked, living chiefly on herbs, roots, and wild fowl. Beyond this, was a province called Xuala. Crossing a chain of low mountains which were uninhabited, the Spaniards next reached the province of Guaxule. When within a league of the principal town, they were met by the cacique, with 500 warriors richly dressed in mantles of various kinds of skins, and adorned with gay feathers. His village consisted of about 300 houses. His own dwelling, into which he received De Soto, stood on a mound, and was encircled by a terrace wide enough for six men to walk upon it abreast.

Still farther on, after passing through a desert country, they came to a village named Ichiaha, standing at the extremity of an island more than five leagues in length, the cacique of which gave them a polite and friendly welcome. After another day’s march, they came to a village called Acoste, the cacique of which was a fierce warrior. He placed himself in battle array at the head of 1,500 of his men, who were decorated with war plumes, and equipped with arms. After some difficulties, a good understanding was established, and the Spaniards were received with hospitality. Continuing their march, they met with numerous tribes, and encountered a great variety of adventures. From the giant chieftain, Tuscaloosa,[6] they received the fiercest resistance; and the Chickasaws, who were a brave and numerous people, assailed them with desperate resolution. As they proceeded, new enemies sprang up to meet them, who either gave them open battle, or hung upon their skirts, and harassed them with perpetual attacks. At one time, they came in sight of a fortress, garrisoned by Indians, whose bodies were painted in stripes of white, black, and red, and their faces blackened, with red circles about their eyes. Some of them wore feathers, and some horns on their heads, so that they looked more like devils than men. Having kindled a fire in front of their fort, they pretended to knock one of their companions on the head with a club, and then swung him by the feet and shoulders, as if they were throwing him into the flames; thus intimating to the Spaniards the kind of treatment they might expect if any of them fell into their hands. The fortress was, however, stormed and carried after a desperate fight, and a fearful scene of blood and carnage ensued, in which multitudes of the Indians were slaughtered.

It is unnecessary to give further details respecting the adventures of De Soto and his companions. We need only say, that, having proceeded westward till he had crossed the Mississippi, this daring leader was seized with fever, of which he died after an illness of seven days. His band of followers, after experiencing great vicissitudes, succeeded in descending the Mississippi, amid hosts of enemies, and, though greatly reduced in numbers, they at length reached the Gulf of Mexico in 1543. Thus terminated this celebrated expedition, which occupied four years, and in which the troops are said to have marched between four and five thousand miles.

The subsequent history of the original Indian tribes of Florida affords nothing of interest. Under the oppression of the Spanish dominion, many of them were destroyed, and others driven off, so that but few remained. Most of them seem to have been conquered, incorporated with the later Seminoles, and intermingled with fugitive negroes. The recent painful history of these we shall hereafter notice. The greater part have been removed across the Mississippi, by the United States government, and only a remnant are left to occupy what is now the Territory of Florida.

FOOTNOTES:

[4] See “Lives of Famous Indians.”

[5] For an account of Cofachiqui, see “Lives of Famous Indians.”

[6] See “Lives of Famous Indians.”

THE INDIANS OF VIRGINIA.

When the Europeans began their settlements in what is now the territory of the United States, the whole country was occupied by a great number of separate and independent tribes. Upon the investigation of their languages, it has been found that they consisted of a few great families, or nations, which have been thus distributed by learned writers.

The _Algonquins_, or _Chippewas_, were spread over the entire continent east of the Mississippi and north of Cape Hatteras, with the exception of the regions inhabited by the _Esquimaux_, far to the north, and the territory claimed by the _Hurons_, or _Wyandots_. This latter family, which included the _Iroquois_, or _Six Nations_, spread themselves over the space now occupied by New York, a part of Ohio, and the whole of Upper Canada. The _Mobilian_, or _Florida_ nations, included the tribes south of Cape Fear and west of the Mississippi, excepting the _Natchez_, inhabiting the country around the modern city of that name, and the _Uchees_, who held the country contiguous to the present town of Augusta, in Georgia. The _Cherokees_, _Tuscaroras_, and _Catawbas_, three considerable nations, occupied the territory of the Carolinas, Virginia, and Tennessee. The _Sioux_, or _Dahcotahs_, dwelt along the western borders of the Mississippi.

These families, or nations, as we have already said, were broken into a multitude of distinct tribes, each having, for the most part, its particular dialect, and carrying on war against every other tribe. In some instances, several tribes were confederated together, either for the purposes of defence or aggression. Their whole number has been variously estimated, but it probably did not exceed 500,000 at the time of the settlement at Jamestown, in 1607.

When our ancestors came to these shores, they found the Indians thinly scattered over the country, though occasionally gathered in considerable groups in the more fertile valleys, and along the banks of rivers, lakes, and bays. They were in the rudest state of society, without science, without arts, without any metallic instruments, without domestic animals. They raised a little corn, which the women cultivated with a clam-shell, or the shoulder-blade of the buffalo. Devouring this with savage improvidence, they obtained a precarious supply for the rest of the year by gathering nuts and roots, or by hunting and fishing. Half clad in skins, or entirely naked, they roamed from place to place, passing their lives, alternately, in stupid idleness, and the fiercest excitements of war and the chase. Ignorant of the past, and improvident of the future, most of these tribes were sunk in the lowest depths of human degradation.

Such were the occupants of the soil, when the European settlers came to establish themselves here. Throughout the continent, the Indians appear to have been at first disposed to give a hospitable reception to the strangers who visited their shores; but they were soon taught to dread, and then to hate, a people, who shot them down, subjected them to slavery, and robbed them of their property and lands, without mercy or scruple. When the settlements began along our Atlantic coast, more than a century had passed since the discovery of the continent by Columbus, and ample time had elapsed for many of the tribes to experience, and all to know, the oppressive and formidable character of these European invaders.

Though the number of the Indians in this quarter was not great, yet their skill in war, and the deep-seated jealousy and hatred of the white race, which had grown up with them, rendered them a fearful foe to feeble colonies, separated by a wide ocean from the protection and succour of their native land. The contests of our forefathers with the Indians, therefore, were full of the deepest interest to them, and abound in incidents which cannot fail to arrest the attention of every reader.

When the Europeans first planted themselves at Jamestown, according to Captain Smith’s account, the country, from the sea-coast to the mountains, was inhabited by forty-three different tribes. Thirty of these spread over the tract of country south of the Potomac, within a space of about 8,000 square miles. Within sixty miles of Jamestown, it is said, there were 5,000 of these natives. There were several confederacies among them, the chief of which were the Powhatan confederacy, the confederacy of the Mannahoacks, and that of the Monacans. These last two were united in a grand alliance against the Powhatan league. Long and bloody wars were maintained between these rival sovereignties. The Mannahoack confederacy embraced thirteen tribes, eight of whom were under the Mannahoacks, and five under the Monacans. Besides these, there were also the independent tribes of the Nottoways, Meherriks, Tuteloes, and various others.

These tribes, especially the Powhatan confederacy, were not disposed to allow the English to settle down among them unmolested. Though at times preserving a show of peace, feelings of hostility rankled in their hearts, and the colonists were obliged to be always on their guard. Nor can we blame the Indians that they felt inimical to the settlers. Hitherto, they had remained sole lords and proprietors of the vast territory over which they roamed, undisturbed except by the wars which they carried on with each other. To break in upon this supremacy, and to appropriate their lands, the white man came and planted himself down, not only assuming a superiority of intelligence and power, but of right. The means of communication with distant tribes were evidently greater than has sometimes been imagined, and doubtless the story of Cortés, De Soto, and other invaders, had reached the ears of these savages. We shall not be surprised, therefore, to find that Powhatan, the chief of the tribe of that name, soon began to grow hostile to his new neighbours at Jamestown, after their settlement in 1607. The enemy he had to oppose, however, was the undaunted and chivalrous Captain Smith, whose earlier history seems almost like a romance, appropriately followed out by the strange incidents of his residence in the colony.[7]

The Indians, in the course of numerous attacks and skirmishes, learned to regard Smith as a foe by no means to be despised; and when, in one of his expeditions, he was taken captive, their joy knew no bounds. After being led from one chief to another, Captain Smith was finally presented to Powhatan himself. Opechancanough, who was his successor, seems to have cherished strong feelings of dislike to Smith, and had Powhatan felt disposed to spare him, he would have found himself opposed by his chief warriors. Finally, when he had been seen by all the Indians, and experiments had been tried on his courage, it was determined, in a council of chiefs, that he should have his brains beaten out with a club.

The appointed day arrived. Powhatan and his warriors were present, exulting in the scene. The captive was brought forth; two large stones were placed in a suitable position, and he was laid upon them. At this moment, the compassionate Pocahontas, the darling daughter of Powhatan, sprang forward, and, clasping Smith in her arms, shielded his head with her person, and declared that he should not be killed, unless she, too, fell beneath the same blow. So strange an event appears to have made a deep impression on the father. His daughter persisting in her determination to die with the captive, the chief yielded, Smith was saved, and sent home to Jamestown. This striking event took place in 1607.

Still, Powhatan, for a considerable time, remained the foe of the whites, and at various times designed evil against the colony; but his schemes were frustrated by the vigilance of Smith, aided by the cautions of Pocahontas, who proved herself, on many occasions, his friend. The heroic girl herself was afterwards taken prisoner, and during her residence at Jamestown was married to Mr. Rolfe, a gentleman of great respectability. Powhatan was then induced to relinquish his hostility, and become the friend of the whites. His daughter and her husband went to England, where she was admitted to see the queen, but she died as she was about to return.

Opechancanough, the successor of Powhatan, was said to be originally from the south, and some have conjectured that he was of Mexican descent, as his appearance is described to have differed from that of the other Indians of the Powhatan confederacy. He was a man of more than ordinary abilities, and burned with a desire to rid his country of those whom he viewed as invaders of her soil. In 1622, he concerted a plan for a general massacre, hoping even to effect the entire extermination of the colony. The plot was deeply laid, and planned with great skill. All the members of the confederacy had their several parts assigned them. At the time the plot was formed, many of the Indians mingled with the whites for the purpose of ascertaining the avenues by which to gain access to the town, and the means of striking the blow with most effect.

On the appointed day, the 22d of March, about noon, while the people were at work, and mostly unarmed, the Indians rushed upon them, and at once massacred three hundred and forty-seven men, women, and children. So well devised was the plan, that, but for its being betrayed, the whole colony, including Jamestown, must have been cut off at a blow. A Christian Indian, who had been solicited by his brother to kill a Mr. Pace, with whom he then lived, informed him of the plot, and, though not in season to save hundreds from falling victims to the savage enemy, yet intelligence was sent to Jamestown, and the people, in many instances, were seasonably put upon their guard. The Indians, finding they were betrayed, did not attempt an attack upon the town, but plundered and burned the undefended houses, the mills and iron works, and whatever else came in their way.

The next autumn, the Virginians, in their turn, attacked the Indians, burned several of their towns, and took many thousand bushels of corn, which they found stored up for the winter. The consequence of this was, that the Indians were greatly distressed, and suffered much for want of food and the necessaries of life. The succeeding July, the war was carried on with still more vigor; four or five separate parties were appointed to attack the Indians at different points, and many were slain, among whom were some of their kings and war-captains. These disasters at once disheartened and weakened them. Still, they continued to seize upon every advantage that offered, and, in 1630, Opechancanough, observing that the colony was in a state of disunion and anarchy, formed a plan for another surprise and massacre.

The experience they had so dearly bought should have made the colonists vigilant, and put them upon their guard at all times. But they seem, at this period, to have relapsed into a state of fatal confidence or indifference. The Indians fell upon the settlers, principally on the south side of James River, and at the head of York River, and so carefully had they concealed their design, so well was it arranged, and so resolutely executed, that they cut off five hundred of the colonists at a blow. This was a dreadful event to the infant settlement, and seems, at first, to have almost entirely disheartened the survivors. A long and bloody war followed, with various results, till, finally, the Indians being defeated, and tired of the strife, a peace was once more made, which continued unbroken for many years. The death of Opechancanough, the master spirit of the savages, and the implacable foe of the colony, doubtless contributed to this end. Every contest also taught the Indians the power of European discipline, and they at last learned that the field of battle was the grave of their warriors, and that even a successful war always resulted in a diminution of their strength.

No very striking event succeeded, in the history of the Virginia colony, till the year 1675, when the Indians again began to rob and murder the colonists. Intestine divisions raged, and they seemed, in their broils, to forget that an enemy lurked around them, who might take fatal advantage of their unguarded and feeble condition. Although the Indians dared not appear, as they had formerly done, in the very heart of the settlements,--for these had increased, and the tribes had been driven back into the interior,--yet they attacked those who dwelt on the frontiers, wasted their fields, burned their houses, and committed other ravages. The colonists were in no condition to avenge themselves of these outrages. Had the Indians, indeed, known the full extent of their weakness, they might have been emboldened to still more daring invasions; but, being successfully attacked by the whites, after a brief conflict, they were glad to accept of peace. The ascendency of the English being once established, the tribes gradually wasted away, and it would now be difficult to find a remnant of the once powerful people by which the eastern portion of Virginia was formerly inhabited.

The tract of country first called Virginia embraced more than is now comprised in the limits of the State; and as a part of North Carolina was included in its boundaries, it may be proper, in this connection, to notice the history of the Indians who occupied this region.

North Carolina was first discovered by Sir Walter Raleigh, in 1584. In the account given by him, it seems the Indian name of this region was Wingandacoa, the king being called Wingina. His chief town was six days’ journey from Wococon. His brother, Ganganameo, resided at a village on the Roanoke. The third day after the English arrived, some natives appeared, and one of them went on board of the ships. The English gave him a shirt, some wine, and plenty to eat. He paddled away, and, having laden his boat with fish, returned, and divided them into two parts, meaning one portion for one ship, and the rest for the other. The next day Ganganameo came to see them, with fifty men, spread out his mat on the point, without any apparent fear, and, sitting down, made signs to the English to sit down with him. He then stroked his head and breast, and theirs also in a gentler manner, thus signifying, that, henceforth, their heads and hearts should be one. He made a long speech, and they presented him with some toys, which greatly pleased him. They then opened a trade, and he gave them twenty deer-skins for a pewter basin; a sample of the dealings between the English and natives. The chief made a hole through the basin, and hung it about his neck for a breastplate. He also gave fifty more skins for a copper kettle.

Some days after this interview, Ganganameo came again with his wife and children. They were of a low stature, but quite handsome. His wife wore a coat and short apron of leather, and a band of white coral about her forehead, with ear-rings of pearls as large as peas, and hanging down to her waist. He was himself dressed in the same manner, except that his hair was long on one side, and cut short on the other. The English, in return, went to see him; but, as the chief was absent, his wife ran to meet them, and, as they approached the shore, ordered her people to take them on their backs to the land. The season being rainy, she had their boat drawn up on the bank. Her visiters were then taken into her house, where she washed their clothes and feet. After they had warmed and dried themselves by a fire, she took them into another room, where a dinner was prepared, consisting of various dishes,--boiled venison, roots, melons, and other fruits. When they returned to their boats, she gave them mats to shield them from the rain. Well might these voyagers say, as they did, “A more kind and loving people cannot be.”

Notwithstanding this favorable view, it appears, that, subsequently, the North Carolina Indians were more or less enlisted in the various enterprises of the natives against the colony of Virginia, of which an account has already been given, and, to some extent, shared the fortunes of their countrymen. In 1712, a part of them, the Corees, Tuscaroras, and others, formed a league for the purpose of expelling the colonists, who had now encroached upon their territories. Their plan was arranged with great secrecy and cunning. To secure their own families, they surrounded their principal town with a breastwork. Here the warriors of the different tribes met, to the number of twelve hundred bowmen. The plan was matured, and the time fixed for the massacre. When the fatal night came, small parties went out by different roads, and, under the mask of friendship, were admitted to the houses of the colonists. Rising at a preconcerted signal, they slaughtered men, women, and children, without distinction. To prevent discovery or alarm, they ran as speedily as possible from house to house, hastening the bloody work.

In the vicinity of Roanoke, they thus butchered one hundred and thirty-seven persons in a single night. A few escaped and gave the alarm, by which means the settlements were preserved from extinction. Nearly one thousand troops were immediately raised in South Carolina, by whom the Indians were pursued. On coming up with them, a severe battle was fought, in which three hundred Indians were slain, and one hundred taken prisoners. It was supposed that nearly one thousand of the Indians were finally killed, wounded, and captured. After this event, the remnant of the Tuscaroras fled to the Five Nations, with whom they became incorporated. From this period, the northern confederacy assumed the title of the Six Nations.

In Pennsylvania, Delaware, New Jersey, and the part of New York below the Highlands, there were likewise numerous tribes of Indians. It is said that there were not less than thirty kings within these limits, and the whole number of Indians is computed by Dr. Trumbull to have been about 10,000, and the warriors 2,000. The principal tribes were the Manhattans and the Delawares, or, as they are often termed, the Lenni Lenape. The peaceful policy of William Penn prevented any Indian wars in the early settlement of Pennsylvania, though another cause doubtless contributed to this result. The Five Nations had subdued the Lenni Lenape, obliged them to put themselves under their protection, deprived them of the power of making war, and confined them to the raising of corn, hunting, and fishing. To use the Indian phrase, they had been thus reduced to the state of women. The interior portion of Virginia had also been subjected to the same sway.

Many of the Indians of whom we are now speaking were greatly benefited by the missionary labors of David Brainerd, who instructed them in Christianity. Numbers became professors of religion, and were bright examples of the power of the gospel even over the savage heart. The Moravians, also, at a still later date, were not less successful, and the account of their residence among the Indians, as related by Heckewelder and others, deserves a careful perusal. The history of these Indians, however, is similar to that of the tribes in other quarters, when brought in contact with the whites. They wasted away in the competition with a master race, and not a vestige of them is left upon their original domains.

FOOTNOTE:

[7] For the details of Smith’s life, see “Curiosities of Human Nature,” and “Lives of Celebrated American Indians,” article “Pocahontas.”

THE SOUTHERN INDIANS.

The Southern Indians, in the Carolinas, Georgia, and Florida, were composed of many different tribes. Of these, the most distinguished were the Catawbas, Cherokees, Choctaws, Chickasaws, and Creeks. In 1671, the Cherokees in South Carolina were estimated at 6,000 bowmen. It is thought that the Corees, Stonoes, Westoes, Savannas, Yamassees, Catawbas, and Congarees could not have been less numerous, and that, in this colony alone, there were as many as 35 or 36,000 Indians, including 12,000 warriors. The Creeks numbered about 25,000. The Chickasaws, Alabamas, and Natchez were computed at 10,476 fighting men, and the whole population at 31,128 souls. The Natchez were once a great nation, and were able, at one time, to raise not less than 4,000 warriors.

These Indians, as well as the others, viewed with jealousy the settlements of the whites, and were, from time to time, more or less engaged in attacks upon the colonists, whom they greatly annoyed in their infant state. They also carried on war with the Five Nations, and many remarkable feats of their valor are related. One of these deserves to be mentioned. A party of Senecas, in an excursion far south, near the territories of the Catawbas, discovered a young hunter in a light summer dress. They intercepted him, and he ran towards a hollow for the purpose of concealing himself. He was swift of foot, and so skilful in archery, that he shot down seven of his pursuers before they were able to capture him. They then took him to their own country, and there he was condemned, in a council of warriors, to die by torture.

On being led out to the stake where he was to be burned alive, he suddenly collected his strength, dashed down his nearest enemies, sprang to the waters of a neighbouring stream, plunged in, and swam underneath, rising only at intervals to take breath, till he reached the shore. The Senecas followed him through the water, and fired their guns, but they were at such a distance they could not reach him. He stopped for a moment or two, contemptuously set them at defiance, and then fled into the forest. Closely pursued, he ran on till midnight, and then lay by among the bushes, hiding himself under some logs.

Five of his enemies came near, and, kindling their fire, lay down to sleep. He watched them earnestly, till they were all in a sound slumber. He then silently crawled to the place, seized a tomahawk, and, by a sudden attack, killed them, and scalped them. He then clothed himself in the dress of one of them, took their guns, ammunition, and provisions, and pursued his way. Still he was not satisfied with his revenge, but went directly to the spot where he had killed the seven Senecas, dug up the bodies from their graves, scalped them, burned them to ashes, and went home in triumph. Another party of the Senecas afterwards came up, but finding the five warriors whom he had killed and scalped, they gave up the pursuit. A war-council was called, and it was determined, that a man who could do such things must be a wizard, whom it was vain to pursue or oppose.

In 1715, there was a general conspiracy and rising of the Southern Indians, especially those in South Carolina. The league comprised the Yamassees, a powerful tribe, the Creeks, Cherokees, Appalachians, Catawbas, Congarees, and all the Indians from Florida to Cape Fear River. The object of this extensive conspiracy was the total destruction of the Carolinians. The 15th of April was the day fixed upon for its execution. The whole plot was managed with such secrecy and under such a guise of friendship, that the English had not the least suspicion of treachery. Even traders among them slept the very night before with the king and his war-captains, in the chief town of the Yamassees.

All was peace and silence until the morning. They then burst forth, fell on the traders, and killed them all at a single volley, except one man and a boy. The nation immediately rose in arms, and proclaimed their designs of vengeance. The chiefs stimulated the young warriors, who caught their spirit, and poured forth like a torrent on the unsuspecting settlers. In a few hours they massacred a hundred men in the town of Pocataligo and the neighbouring plantations. The man and boy, who were not killed at the first fire, made their escape to Port Royal, and the inhabitants generally fled on board a ship for Charleston. Some other families, who were unable to escape, were murdered.

While the Yamassees were thus desolating the southern frontiers, the Congarees, Catawbas, and Cherokees came down in great force on the north. The southern division of the Indians in this war was computed at 6,000 bowmen, and the northern at 600 or 1,000. A company, which was sent against the northern division, was betrayed by the treachery of an Indian; the captain was slain, and his party defeated. In one place, seventy whites and about forty negroes, having bravely defended their post against the northern division, capitulated, and, after their surrender are said to have been perfidiously massacred. Flushed with their success, the Indians went on burning, murdering, and plundering. They were soon, however, met by a band of militia, raised on the emergency, and totally defeated.

The governor of South Carolina advanced with an army, and, at a place called Saltcalches, a bloody battle was fought. The Indians, uttering fearful war-cries and yells, sometimes retired behind the bushes, and then, when the English were beginning to be encouraged with the hope of success, they returned to the fight with redoubled fury. They were, however, at last wholly defeated, and driven across the Savannah River. The Yamassees, despairing of being able to expel or exterminate the whites, and cherishing a spirit of bold independence, fled to Florida, where they were afterwards troublesome to the settlements in that vicinity.

In April, 1730, a commissioner was sent to treat with the Cherokees. A general assembly of the chiefs was thereupon summoned, who swore allegiance to King George. A treaty was made, which was kept inviolate by the Indians for thirty years. In 1760, they again made war on the English. Parties of them had assisted in the expedition against Fort du Quesne. In that enterprise they were treated with coldness and neglect, and felt themselves insulted. Returning home, as many of the warriors had lost their horses, they caught and appropriated such as they found loose in the woods. The Virginians, roused by these aggressions, fell on them, killed twelve or fifteen, and took several prisoners.

The Cherokees were at once kindled into rage; they went home, and told their wrongs to their nation. The relatives of those who were slain breathed nothing but revenge. The French emissaries secretly fanned the flame, and added fresh fuel to their angry passions. The young warriors rushed down on the frontier settlements, and committed ravages on the defenceless inhabitants. They attacked the troops stationed at Fort Loudon, a portion of whom were killed, and the remainder confined within the fort. Still, the nation generally were averse to war, particularly as they heard that the English were making great preparations to attack them. They therefore sent thirty-two of their chief men to settle the difficulties in an amicable manner. The governor of North Carolina received them haughtily, and overwhelmed them with reproaches. Ouconnostota, who was considered a great warrior in the Cherokee nation, began to reply, but the governor would not hear him. This treatment greatly exasperated the Indians, who had now a new insult added to their other wrongs. The governor soon after marched for the country of the Congarees, 140 miles from Charleston, taking with him the Cherokee sachems, who were detained as prisoners, a guard being set over them. On reaching Fort George, they were shut up in a hut scarcely fit to accommodate a dozen soldiers, and were not allowed to see their friends, or even enjoy the light of day.

Here the governor opened a conference with the Indians, who had been assembled for the purpose. He had sent, among others, for Attakullakulla, or Little Carpenter, who was esteemed the wisest man in the nation, and the most attached of all to the English. By his request, Ouconnostota and two more of the chiefs were set free. Two others, who were delivered up as hostages, being put in irons, the Cherokees were alarmed and fled. Attakullakulla returned home to await the result. He was, however, soon summoned back, and finally a treaty was signed by the governor, and the head men of the Cherokees. Still, the remembrance of the treatment they had received lay deeply buried in the breasts of the Indians; and Attakullakulla, on account of his known attachment to the English, had little influence with them.

Ouconnostota, under a sense of his wrongs, was implacable and vindictive. He collected his warriors, made a fierce attack on the whites, killed fourteen men near Fort George, and besieged the garrison. He also contrived a stratagem to surprise the fort. He sent two Indian women, who were always welcome there, to decoy out the garrison; the lieutenant went forth to inquire the news, when Ouconnostota joined them, saying that he wished to see the commanding officer on important business. Accordingly, the captain, lieutenant, and ensign went out to meet him. The chief said he was going to Charleston to procure a release of prisoners, and wished a white man for a safeguard.

The request seemed reasonable, and the captain told him he should have one. No sooner was the answer returned, than Ouconnostota gave the signal agreed on, and nearly thirty guns were at once discharged on the English. The captain was killed, and the lieutenant and ensign were wounded. This treachery so exasperated the garrison, that the hostages in the fort were immediately put to death. In the evening, the Indians approached the fort, and, after firing their guns, and crying out in the Cherokee language, “Fight manfully and you shall be assisted,” they made a most furious attack, which they kept up all night. But they were so well met by the fire of the troops within the fort, that they were obliged to retire.

Disappointed in this project, they turned their rage upon the Indian traders, and massacred them. The war now became general; large parties of warriors fell on the defenceless frontiers, and cut off many families. About 200 of them attacked the fort at Ninety-Six, but were obliged to retire with loss. In the mean time an expedition was planned against the Indians; and presents were given to such Creeks, Chickasaws, and Catawbas, as joined in the war against the Cherokees. Their towns in the lower settlement were attacked and destroyed, and many of the natives slain. After this, a message was sent to Fort Loudon, requesting the commanding officers to use their best endeavours to obtain peace with the Cherokees of the upper towns. But they were unsuccessful, and an attack on the middle settlements was therefore resolved upon.

On the third day, as the army were advancing, the Cherokees made a most furious assault upon them. A long and obstinate fight ensued, but, finally, the Indians gave way, and fled. The army immediately pressed forward to Etchowa, but the Indians had removed their property, and forsaken the town. Again an attack was made, and the English, after a severe contest, though claiming the victory, found themselves forced to retreat. Soon after this, Fort Loudon surrendered, and the Indians fell upon the garrison as they were marching homeward. All were slain except Captain Stewart, whom Attakullakulla ransomed and sent home, at the price of nearly all he possessed. The conduct of the chief, in this case, forms a bright and beautiful passage in Indian history.

The war with the Cherokees still continued, and the French sought with all their art to engage the Creeks and Choctaws against the English. A force of Scotch Highlanders, and a provincial regiment, with numbers of Chickasaws and Catawbas, who had been induced, by presents, to engage in the service,--the whole consisting of 2,600 men,--were now sent forward to Fort Prince George. Here Attakullakulla met them, and besought the commander to proceed no farther till he had used his endeavours to bring about a peace with his countrymen. But his entreaties were vain. The officer proceeded, and the troops were attacked by the Cherokees, who rushed down from the high grounds with great fury. The battle was long and dubious; the Indians, when repulsed at one point, assailed another, and the fight was maintained from nine to eleven o’clock, when the Cherokees, overpowered by superior discipline, fled, and were pursued till two o’clock. Etchowa, and fourteen other towns of the middle settlements, were now utterly destroyed, together with several magazines of corn, and 1,400 acres of cornfields. After ravaging the country, far and wide, the English returned to Fort Prince George.

Soon after this, Attakullakulla and several chiefs went to the camp and expressed earnest wishes for peace. Articles were drawn up and interpreted, and Attakullakulla agreed to accept all but one, which he had no power from his nation to grant. This was, that four Cherokees should be delivered up, and put to death in front of the army. As they could not accede to this cruel demand, the chiefs were sent to Charleston to confer with the governor. He met them at Ashley Ferry, and gave them a welcome. The fire was kindled, and the pipe of peace was lighted and smoked, in silence and great solemnity. Then Attakullakulla rose up and made an eloquent and manly speech, saying, “that he came as a messenger of peace; that his people were in great distress; that, though the English were their superiors, and lived in light, while they were in darkness, yet that one God was the Father of both; that they lived in one country, and that he wished what had happened might now be forgotten, and that they might be as one people.”

A peace was thereupon established, and both parties expressed their wish that it might last as long as the rivers should run, or the sun shine. This was at the close of the year 1761.

The Natchez were a powerful tribe of Indians, who inhabited that part of our country now called Louisiana. They differed, in many respects, from the rest of the Southern Indians, and many of their customs were singular. In their worship of the sun, they bore a strong resemblance to the ancient Peruvians, and may, perhaps, have had a common ancestry with them. But they were much more warlike, and occasioned great trouble to the French settlements in that vicinity. On one occasion, they formed a deep plan for the extermination of every Frenchman among them. A considerable time was taken in maturing it, and it was so complete in its details, that nothing but its discovery by a female, who was attached to the French, could probably have defeated its execution.

A day was fixed upon, when the savages were to rise simultaneously and massacre the whites. Those who planned the enterprise, in order to insure unity of action, furnished a number of rods to each tribe; one rod was to be taken from the collection every day, till there remained but one, and this was to indicate the time for the massacre. The woman, to whom we have alluded, in order to defeat the scheme of her people, took away one of these rods, and, as the Indians never counted them, a part of the Natchez began the massacre one day too soon. The French were thus apprized of the hostile design, and took measures to defeat it. Still, many of them fell victims to the fury of the Indians. In revenge, the whites attacked them, and, in the end, this powerful tribe were nearly all destroyed, and their habitations reduced to ashes. These events took place in 1729.

The settlements of the French on the Yazoo and Washita rivers were subjected to an attack similar to that just related, and with the like result. The Natchez, who survived the French retaliation of their massacres, fled to the Chickasaws.

INDIANS OF NEW ENGLAND.

The tract of country known by the name of New England was formerly inhabited by numerous bands of Indians, though none of them equalled the more southern tribes. They were, however, warlike, and were led by chiefs of great ability. Dr. Trumbull computes the New England Indians as, at one time, amounting to 123,000. In the winter of 1617, the plague, or some other mortal disease, broke out among them, and almost depopulated the country.

When the English first landed at Plymouth, they saw few indications of inhabitants. Yet the number of Indians in Massachusetts was probably not less than 10,000 or 12,000, and in Rhode Island not less than 8,000. The Pequods and Mohegans, in Connecticut, had about 1,000 warriors; these, with others, made the Indian population there equal to about 12,000. In New Hampshire, there were probably about 4,000. The whole number of warriors in New England might be estimated at 12,000, upon the arrival of our ancestors at Plymouth. Had these been all united in hostility against the strangers, they must have proved formidable enemies, indeed, to the little company landing on the coast in the bleak month of December.

The Pequods were the most warlike of all the Indians in New England. More than twenty kings were their tributaries. It was fortunate for the colonies that this tribe was not in the immediate vicinity of Plymouth. Their chief seat was in Connecticut.

The Indians in the western part of this region were so often exposed to the incursions of the Mohawks, that they were not only weakened, but they lived in constant dread of their fierce and savage foe. This terrible enemy was wont to burst suddenly and unexpectedly into their country, and, as they rushed upon their victims, they yelled in their ears, “_Hadree, hadree succomce, succomce_,” We come, we come to suck your blood! The cry of “The Mohawks! the Mohawks!” was the most appalling sound that could assail the ears of these people.

The Indians of Massachusetts were greatly exasperated by the conduct of a Captain Hunt, previous to the arrival of the pilgrims. He had enticed twenty-seven Indians on board of his ship, carried them off, and sold them as slaves. After they heard of the arrival of the colonists, they meditated their extermination, and held a powow, or council, in a swamp, where, for three days, they deliberated as to what they should do. According to their usage, they cursed the white men; but, not being aware of their weak condition, they did not venture to attack them. An overruling hand withheld them, and a voice spoke to them, though they knew not whence it came, “Touch not my people, and do my servants no harm!”

The landing at Plymouth took place on the 22d of December, 1620. On the 16th of March, 1621, Samoset--one of the Indians who had been kidnapped by the English, and found his way back to his people, and who had acquired some knowledge of our language--came to Plymouth, and saluted the colonists with the agreeable words, “Welcome, Englishmen!” We may imagine how joyfully they listened to his story, as he portrayed to them the kindly character of Massasoit, the sachem who bore rule in that vicinity. For days exposed to cold, hunger, and sickness, they had waited the opening of spring, doubtless with many anxious fears as to what evils might threaten them from the savages of the wilderness; and to be now assured that the principal chief was kindly disposed must have been cheering indeed.

Samoset was soon despatched to the sachem, charged with a message of peace, and Massasoit himself, and his brother Quadequina, with sixty armed men, came to pay a visit to Governor Carver. After exchanging hostages, Massasoit advanced to a brook with twenty unarmed men, where he was met by a file of musketeers, and was conducted to a house and seated on a green rug, with a number of cushions. Here the two chiefs saluted each other, kissed hands, and entered into a league of friendship, commerce, and mutual defence. This treaty gave peace to all that part of the country, and Massasoit always continued to be a firm friend to the colonists.

The first attack on the Europeans, by the Indians of New England, was at Connecticut, in 1636, by the Pequod tribe. They felt jealous of the strangers who had come upon their ancient soil, over which they had so long roamed as the sole possessors. With the hope, therefore, of expelling or exterminating the intruders, they attacked the fort at Saybrook, and slew and took captive the inhabitants of that early settlement. Determined on more extensive and fatal measures against the colonists, the Pequods sought to gain over the adjacent tribe of the Narragansets, with whom they had before carried on a bloody warfare. They represented to them that these foreigners were mere intruders, dispossessing the original inhabitants, and that, unless, by a general combination, they were driven off or destroyed, they would become masters of the whole country. They also bade them reflect, that, if the English should destroy the Pequods, they would soon root out the Narragansets themselves.

In consequence of their attacks, the colonists felt it necessary to take vigorous measures for carrying the war even into the intrenchments of the enemy. Captain Mason, with ninety Englishmen and seventy Mohegan and River Indians, who had been secured as allies, was accordingly despatched from Hartford, to search out the enemy, and give them battle. These were joined by Captain Underhill, of Saybrook, with nineteen men.

On the 26th of May, 1637, Mason, after a fatiguing march, surprised Mystic, near the present town of Stonington, one of the principal Indian forts. After a volley from their fire-arms, they entered the place, sword in hand, their Indian allies leaving them to make the assault alone. Captain Mason, with his company, had approached on the east side, and Captain Underhill, with his men, on the west side. When they were within about a rod of the fort, the barking of a dog awakened the sleeping sentinel, who cried out, “_Owannux! Owannux!_” Englishmen! Englishmen! The Indians, roused by the cry, rallied, and fought bravely, and victory for a time hung in suspense, till Captain Mason, observing that the wigwams were covered with mats, or other combustible materials, had recourse to the expedient of setting them on fire.

This decided the fate of the Pequods. In an hour, about seventy wigwams were destroyed, and most of the Indians, estimated at four or five hundred, were burned to death, shot down, or slain by the sword. Sassacus, the Pequod sachem, and his warriors, were so panic-struck by the loss of their fort and the destruction of their men, that they burned their remaining wigwams and the royal fortress, and fled towards the Hudson River. They were pursued to a swamp near Fairfield, where another battle took place, in which the Pequods were entirely vanquished. The Mohawks, treacherously hired, as has been supposed, by the Narragansets, then fell upon the remnant of the tribe, and cut them to pieces. It was calculated, that, in the whole, not less than seven hundred Indians fell in this war. A few, who still lingered on their ancient grounds, at last united with the Mohegans, under Uncas. This chief had shown himself a friend to the English, and some of his descendants have remained, till within a few years, among the few Mohegans who still hold lands in the vicinity of Norwich, Connecticut.

This effort of the Pequods, under the renowned Sassacus, was the first great attempt of the Indians to destroy the settlers of New England. So speedy and terrible was the retribution which followed this attempt, that the humbled Indians remained at peace for many years after. Other circumstances aided to promote this state of things. Sassacus, the monarch of the country, reigning over twenty Indian kings, had maintained a long and successful war with Miantonimoh, the sachem of the Narragansets, and was an object of terror to that people. Miantonimoh and his nation, therefore, desired a league with the colonists, to defend them against the Pequods. Massasoit, also, and his people, had sought the same alliance as a defence against their bitter and dangerous foes, the Tarratines of Maine; and all the New England Indians desired, especially, to secure themselves against the attacks of the terrible Mohawks. Thus mutual weakness and mutual fears led to general peace.

Attempts were early made by the colonists to instruct the Indians in the Christian religion. About the year 1644, Mr. Mayhew and Mr. Eliot began, successfully, to engage in labors for the conversion of the Indians on Martha’s Vineyard and at Natick. At first, there was great opposition by the sachems and powows, or priests, who used every effort to baffle and discourage the devoted missionaries. But, in 1660, there were whole towns of “praying Indians,” and in 1687, there were more than twenty assemblies of these savages who worshipped the true God. Eliot, with vast labor, translated the Bible into the language of those among whom he preached. This was printed, and a copy of it may occasionally be found treasured up as a curiosity in our public libraries. In 1695, there were not less than 3,000 adult Indians, reckoned as converts to the Christian religion, in the islands of Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket.

About the year 1675, another Indian war began, which proved the most serious contest in which the colonists had ever been engaged. For several years previously, the Indians had been silently forming a general conspiracy for the extermination of the New England colonies. Massasoit, the good friend of the English, was dead, and his grandson Philip, sachem of the Wampanoags, whose chief seat was in Rhode Island, did not inherit the kindly feeling of his ancestor toward the whites. He was a man of great abilities, and, had his means been equal to his skill and bravery, the result might have proved fatal to the now flourishing colonies.

A Christian Indian, named John Sausaman, discovered to the English the mischiefs he was plotting against them. Philip, burning with rage that his plan should be revealed, caused Sausaman to be murdered. The English detected the murderers, apprehended them, and after a trial, in which their guilt was sufficiently apparent, executed them. This still further incited Philip to revenge. On the 20th of June, he commenced open hostilities on the town of Swansey, near his territory.

The torch of war, thus lighted, continued to rage over the whole extent of New England, for several years, with unabated fury. Its details would fill a volume. Philip,[8] who was the master spirit of the league against the whites, displayed a courage, sagacity, and perseverance, worthy of a king and a patriot. Nor was he ill seconded by the tribes whom he drew into the conspiracy by his eloquence and his intrigues. Though often defeated, he was never discouraged, and, while his foe seemed about to trample him to the earth, he frequently arose with renewed vigor and more desperate resolution. He was at length slain, and, though the struggle was maintained for some time longer, it at last resulted in a general defeat of the Indians, from which they never recovered. The war had extended from Rhode Island to Maine, and, throughout the whole extent of this region, the smoke of the dwellings and the cries of the victims were seen and heard on every hand. Many of the most flourishing English villages were laid in ashes. The struggle was not finished till the spring of 1678. Six hundred of the flower of the colonists perished, and three hundred houses were consumed. The Mohegans and a few other tribes remained friendly, but the rest shared in the war and its fatal consequences.