Menace of the Narragansets.—Roger Williams.—Difficulty on the
Kennebec.—Bradford’s Narrative.—Captain Standish as Mediator.—The
French on the Penobscot.—Endeavors to Regain the
Lost Port.—Settlements on the Connecticut River.—Mortality
among the Indians.—Hostility of the Pequots.—Efforts to Avert
War.—The Pequot Forts.—Death of Elder Brewster.—His
Character.
In the spring of the year 1632 an Indian runner
came, in breathless haste, into the village of Plymouth,
with the intelligence that the Narragansets,
under Canonicus, were marching against Mount Hope,
and that Massassoit implored the aid of the Pilgrims.
The chief of the Wampanoags had fled, with a party
of his warriors, to Sowams, in the present town of
Warren, R. I., where the Pilgrims had a trading-post.
It used to be said, in the French army, during the
wars of Napoleon I., that the presence of the Emperor,
on the field of an approaching battle, was
equivalent to a re-enforcement of one hundred thousand
men. It seems to have been the impression,
with both colonists and Indians, that Captain Standish,
in himself alone, was a resistless force. He was immediately
despatched to Sowams, with three men, to
repel an army of nobody knew how many hundreds of
savage warriors.
Upon his arrival at Sowams, the captain soon
learned that the Wampanoags were indeed in serious
peril. The Narragansets were advancing in much
strength. Captain Standish sent promptly a messenger
to Plymouth to forward a re-enforcement to him
immediately, with powder and muskets. As there
was but little ammunition at that time in Plymouth,
application was made to Governor Winthrop, of Massachusetts,
for a supply. There were but few horses
then in either of the colonies, and the messenger
returned on foot through the woods with twenty-seven
pounds of powder upon his back, which Governor
Winthrop had contributed from his own stores. Fortunately
the Pequots, taking advantage of the absence
of the Narraganset warriors, made an inroad upon
their territory, which caused Canonicus to abandon
his march upon Sowams and to make a precipitate
retreat to defend his own realms.
Mr. Roger Williams, whose name is one of the most
illustrious in the early annals of New England, had a
little before this time come over to Massachusetts.
Being displeased with some things there, he left
that colony and came to Plymouth.
“Here,” writes Governor Bradford, “he was
friendly entertained, according to their poor ability,
and exercised his gifts among them, and after some
time was admitted a member of the church. And
his teaching was well approved, for the benefit whereof
I still bless God, and am thankful to him, even for
his sharpest admonitions and reproofs. He this year
began to fall into some strange opinions, and from
opinion to practice; which caused some controversy
between the church and him, and, in the end, some
discontent on his part, by occasion whereof he left
them somewhat abruptly.”
In the year 1634 a serious difficulty occurred upon
the Kennebec River. The Plymouth colony claimed
this river, and fifteen miles on each side of it, by
special patent. They thus were enabled to monopolize
the very important trade with the Indians. A
man by the name of Hocking, from the settlement at
Piscataqua, with a boat load of goods, entered the
river, and ascending above the trading coast of the
Plymouth colony, commenced purchasing furs of the
Indians. Mr. John Howland was in command of the
post at that time. He forbade the trade; but Hocking,
with insulting language, bade him defiance.
Howland took a boat and some armed men, and
ascended the river to the spot where the heavily laden
boat of Hocking was riding at anchor, and earnestly
expostulated with him against his illegal procedings.
The result we will give in the words of Governor
Bradford:
“But all in vain. He could get nothing of him
but ill words. So he considered that now was the
season for trade to come down, and that if he should
suffer him to take it from them, all their former
charge would be lost, and they had better throw all
up. So consulting with his men, who were willing
thereto, he resolved to put him from his anchors, and
let him drift down the river with the stream; but
commanded the men that none should shoot a shot
upon any occasion, except he commanded them.
“He spoke to him again, but all in vain. Then
he sent a couple in a canoe to cut his cable, the which
one of them performs. But Hocking takes up a piece,
which he had laid ready, and, as the bark sheared
by the canoe, he shot him, close under her side, in the
head, so that he fell down dead instantly.44 One of
his fellows, who loved him well, could not hold, but
with a musket shot Hocking, who fell down dead, and
never spake word. This was the truth of the thing.”
Mr. John Alden, probably the husband of Priscilla,
was one of the men in the bark with the Pilgrims.
They returned to the trading post, much afflicted
by the untoward adventure. Not long after this Mr.
Alden, visiting Boston, was arrested for the deed,
upon the complaint of a kinsman of Hocking, and
held to bail. The Massachusetts government had no
right of jurisdiction in the affair. But Governor
Winthrop was quite embarrassed to know what was
best to be done in a case thus far without any precedent.
He wrote very courteously to Governor Winslow,
then Chief Magistrate of Plymouth, informing
him of what had been done, and enquiring if the Plymouth
people would take action in a case which
seemed rather to belong to their jurisdiction.
“This we did,” writes Governor Winthrop, “that
notice might be taken that we did disavow the said
action, which was much condemned of all men, and
which, it was feared, would give occasion to the king
to send a general governor over. And besides, it had
brought us all, and the gospel, under a common reproach,
of cutting one another’s throats for beaver.”
Governor Bradford was also greatly troubled, being
apprehensive respecting the influence it might
exert upon the home government. He speaks of the
occurrence as “one of the saddest things that befel
them since they came.” There was embarrassment
all around. It was hardly consistent with the dignity
of Plymouth to surrender the case to the Massachusetts
court. Mr. Alden, who had been arrested, was
no actor in the business. He simply happened to be
in the boat, having gone to the Kennebec with supplies.
Under these difficult circumstances Captain Standish
was sent to Massachusetts to consult with the
authorities there upon the best course to be pursued;
to make explanations, and to endeavor to obtain the
release of John Alden. Great wisdom was requisite
in discharging the duties of this mission, combining
conciliation with firmness. The Captain was equal to
the occasion. He represented that the Plymouth
people exceedingly regretted what had happened, but
they felt that they were not the aggressors, but had
acted in self defense. It was admitted that one of
their servants had shot Hocking, but that he had first
shot Talbot, and would have killed others had he not
himself been killed. It was urged that the Massachusetts
colony had no jurisdiction in the case, and
that it had done unjustly in imprisoning, and arraigning
before its court, one of the Plymouth men. The
spirit of conciliation manifested by both parties was
admirable, as is manifest in the following admission
made to the Massachusetts court, as recorded by
Governor Bradford:
“But yet, being assured of their Christian love,
and persuaded that what was done was out of godly
zeal, that religion might not suffer, or sin be in any
way covered, especially the guilt of blood, of which all
should be very conscientious, they did endeavor to
appease and satisfy them the best they could; first
by informing them of the truth in all circumstances
about the matter; and secondly, in being willing to refer
the case to any indifferent and equal hearing and
judgment of the thing here, and to answer it elsewhere
when they should be duly called thereto. And
further, they craved Mr. Winthrop’s, and others of
the revered magistrates there, their advice and direction
therein. This did mollify their minds, and bring
things to a good and comfortable issue in the end.”45
In accordance with Governor Winthrop’s advice,
a general conference of prominent men, both ministers
and laymen, was held in Boston. After seeking
divine guidance in prayer, the matter was very thoroughly
discussed. Then the opinion of each one was
taken, both magistrates and ministers. With entire
unanimity they came to the conclusion that, “Though
they all could have wished that these things had
never been, yet they could not but lay the blame and
guilt on Hocking’s own head. And thus,” writes
Governor Bradford, “was this matter ended, and love
and concord renewed.”
In the struggle between the Dutch and the English,
for the possession of the Connecticut River and
its lucrative trade, a party of Dutch ascended the
river far above their trading-house, at the present site
of Hartford. Here there was a powerful tribe of Indians.
Being, as usual with the Indians, at war with
their neighbors, about one thousand of them had built
a fort, which they had strongly palisadoed. Some
Dutch traders went up to pass the winter with them,
and to purchase their furs. A terrible plague came
upon the Indians, and nine hundred and fifty died in
the course of a few weeks. The living could not
bury the dead. Their bodies were left to decay in
the open air. The Dutch, with difficulty, amidst the
snows of winter, made their escape from this horrible
pestilence, and succeeded, when almost dead with
hunger and cold, in reaching their friends in Hartford.
The account of the ravages of the small-pox among
the Indians, around the English settlements, is too
revolting to be transferred to these pages. The suffering
was awful. Though the English ministered to
them with the greatest humanity, yet not one of them
was attacked by the disease. The judgment of God
seemed to have fallen upon the Indians, and they
were everywhere perishing.
The Plymouth colony had a very flourishing trading-house
on the Penobscot River. In the year 1635,
a French frigate appeared in the harbor, and took
possession of the post, in the name of the king of
France. The captain, Monsieur d’ Aulney, made an
inventory of their goods, took a bill of sale at his own
price, promised to pay when convenient, put the men
on board their shallop, supplied them amply with provisions,
and, with many bows and compliments, sent
them home to Plymouth. Once before this post had
been thus captured. The Plymouth people were
greatly disturbed by the loss. The French commander
threatened to come again the next year, with
eight ships, and to seize all the plantations in that
section of the country which was claimed by the
king of France.
Plymouth applied to Massachusetts to co-operate
in the endeavor to recapture the post, and to drive
out the French. The Governor of Plymouth and
Captain Standish were sent to meet the Massachusetts
commissioners. They urged that both colonies
were equally interested in the dislodgement of the
French, and that the expense should be equally borne.
But the Massachusetts commissioners insisted that
as the post belonged to Plymouth alone, that colony
ought to defray all the expenses of the expedition.
Thus the negotiation terminated.
Plymouth, thus left to its own resources, hired a
vessel, the Great Hope, of about three hundred tons,
well fitted with ordnance. It was agreed with its
commander that he should recapture the post, and
surrender it, with all the trading commodities which
were there, to the agents, who were to accompany
him from Plymouth. As his recompense, he was to
receive seven hundred pounds of beaver skins, to be
delivered as soon as he should have accomplished his
task. If he failed, he was to receive nothing.
Thomas Prince was then Governor of Plymouth.
He sent Captain Miles Standish, in their own bark,
with about twenty men, to aid, should it be needful,
in the recovery of the post, and to take the command
there, should the post be regained. Captain Standish’s
bark led the way, and piloted the Great Hope
into the harbor, on the Penobscot. He had in his
vessel the seven hundred pounds of beaver, with
which to pay for the expedition. But Golding proved
a totally incompetent man, displaying folly almost
amounting to insanity. He would take no advice
from Captain Standish. He would not even allow
Captain Standish to summon the post to surrender.
Had this been done, the French would at once have
yielded, for they were entirely unprepared to resist
the force sent against them. Neither would he bring
his ship near enough to the post to do any execution,
as without any summons and at a great distance, he
opened a random and harmless fire.
Captain Standish earnestly remonstrated, assuring
Golding that he could lay his ship within pistol shot
of the house. As the stupid creature burned his
powder and threw away his shot, the French, behind
an earth-work out of all harm’s reach, made themselves
merry over the futile bombardment. At length Golding
became convinced of his folly, and placed his vessel
upon the spot which Captain Standish had pointed
out. Then he ascertained, to the excessive chagrin
of Captain Standish and his party, that he had
expended all his ammunition. The wretch then designed
to seize upon the bark and the beaver skins.
But Captain Standish, learning of this, spread his
sails and returned in safety to Plymouth.
The Governor and his assistants in Massachusetts
Bay, hearing of this utter failure of the expedition,
became alarmed in reference to their own safety.
They wrote very earnestly to Plymouth, saying:
“We desire that you would, with all convenient
speed, send some man of trust, furnished with instructions
from yourselves, to make such agreement
with us about this business, as may be useful for you
and equal for us.”
Captain Standish, with Mr. Prince, was immediately
sent to Massachusetts with full powers to act in
accordance with instructions given them. The negotiations,
however, failed; as the Massachusetts
colonists were still not prepared to pay their share of
the expense. The French remained undisturbed on
the Penobscot. They carried on a vigorous trade
with the Indians, supplying them abundantly with
muskets and ammunition.
The terrible mortality, which had swept away so
many thousand Indians from the Connecticut, turned
the attention of the Massachusetts colonists again to
that beautiful and fertile region. The Dutch claimed
the country. The Plymouth colony claimed it. And
now the Massachusetts colonists were putting in their
claim. Jonathan Brewster, the oldest son of Elder
Brewster, was at the head of the little Plymouth
settlement at Windsor. The following extracts from
one of his letters addressed to the authorities at
Plymouth, give a very clear idea of the state of the
question at that time. The letter is dated Matianuck
(Windsor), July 6, 1835.
“The Massachusetts men are coming almost
daily, some by water and some by land, who are not
yet determined where to settle, though some have a
great mind to the place we are upon, and which was
last bought. Many of them look for that which this
river will not afford, except it be at this place, to be a
great town and have commodious dwellings for many
together. I shall do what I can to withstand them.
I hope that they will hear reason; as that we were
here first, and entered with much difficulty and danger,
both in regard of the Dutch and Indians, and
bought the land and have since held here a chargeable
possession, and kept the Dutch from further
encroaching, who would else, long ere this, have
possessed all, and kept out all others.
“It was your will that we should use their persons
and messengers kindly; and so we have done, and
do daily to your great charge. For the first company
had well nigh starved had it not been for this house;
I being forced to supply twelve men for nine days
together. And those who came last I helped the
best we could, helping them both with canoes and
guides. They got me to go with them to the Dutch,
to see if I could procure some of them to have
quiet settling near them; but they did peremptorily
withstand them. Also I gave their goods house-room,
according to their earnest request. What
trouble and charge I shall be further at I know not;
for they are coming daily, and I expect those back
again from below, whither they are gone to view the
country. All which trouble and charge we undergo
for their occasion, may give us just cause, in the
judgment of all wise and understanding men, to hold
and keep that we are settled upon.”46
The question was finally settled by treaty, and the
Massachusetts colonists soon planted settlements at
Wethersfield, Hartford, and some other places on the
river. There were three dominant nations, if we may
so call them, at this time, in southern New England.
The chiefs of these nations exercised a sort of feudal
domination over many petty tribes. The Wampanoags,
under Massasoit, held the present region of
Massachusetts generally. The Narragansets, under
Canonicus, occupied Rhode Island. The Pequots,
under Sassacus, extended their dominion over nearly
the whole of Connecticut. These tribes, powerful
and jealous, were almost invariably engaged in hostilities.
Roger Williams estimated the number of
Pequots at thirty thousand souls. They could bring
four thousand warriors into the field. The seat of
their chief was at Groton, near New London. Twenty-six
smaller tribes were held in subjection by him.
The Pequots were deemed the most fierce and cruel
race of all the tribes who dwelt in New England.
The Narragansets were a nobler race of men.
They somewhat surpassed the Pequots in numbers,
and manifested traits of character far more generous
and magnanimous. They could bring five thousand
warriors into the field. The seat of Canonicus, their
chief, was not far from the present town of Newport.
The Wampanoags had suffered terribly from the
pestilence which ravaged New England just before
the arrival of the Pilgrims. The number of their
warriors had been reduced from over three thousand
to about five hundred. Early in the year 1637 the
Pequots began to manifest decided hostility against
the English. There was a small settlement at Saybrook,
near the mouth of the Connecticut river. As
the colonists were at work in the fields, unsuspicious
of danger, a band of Indians fell upon them and killed
several men and women. The Indians retired with
loud boastings and threats. Soon after they came in
larger numbers and attacked a fort. Though they
were repelled, their attack was so bold and spirited as
to astonish the English and cause them great alarm.
The Pequots endeavored to make peace with the
Narragansets, that they might enter into an alliance
with them against the English. Not a little ability
was displayed in the plan of operations which they
suggested. “We have no occasion to fear,” they said,
“the strength of the English. We need not come to
open battle with them. We can set fire to their
houses, shoot their cattle, lie in ambush for them
whenever they go abroad. Thus we can utterly destroy
them without any danger to ourselves. The
English will be either starved to death, or will be
compelled to leave the country.”
For a time the Narragansets listened to these representations,
being quite inclined to accept them.
The anxiety of the English was very great. They
desired only peace, with the prosperity it would bring.
War and its ruin they greatly deplored.
The Pilgrims did everything which could be done
to avoid the Pequot war; but it was forced upon
them. Sassacus was a very shrewd man, and laid
very broad plans for his military operations. He could
summon thousands of warriors who would fall furiously
upon all the scattered settlements, lay them in
ashes, and massacre the inhabitants.
In the year 1634, just after a very flourishing trading
post had been established on the Connecticut
river at Windsor, two English traders, Captains Norton
and Stone, ascended the river in a boat, laden
with valuables for the Indian trade, which they intended
to exchange for furs. These traders had eight
white boatmen in their employ. The Indians were
peaceful, and they had no apprehensions of danger.
One night, as the boat was moored by the side of the
stream, a band of Indians, with hideous yells, rushed
from an ambush upon them, put every man to death
and, having plundered the boat of all its contents,
sunk it in the stream.
These traders were from Massachusetts. This
powerful colony demanded of Sassacus that the murderers
should be surrendered to them, and that payment
should be made for the plundered goods. The
bloody deed had been performed at midnight in the
glooms of the forest. There was no survivor to tell
the story. Sassacus fabricated one, very ingeniously,
to palm off upon the English. No one could deny
the villany of Captain Hunt, who, some years before,
had kidnapped several Indians and sold them into
slavery. Sassacus declared that Captains Norton and
Stone, without any provocation, had seized two Indians,
bound them hand and foot in their boat, and were
about to carry them off, no one knew where.
The friends of these captives crept cautiously
along the shore watching for an opportunity to rescue
them. The white men were all thoroughly armed
with swords and muskets, rendering any attempt to
rescue the captives extremely perilous. The right
of self-defense rendered it necessary, in the conflict
which would ensue, to kill. In the darkness of the
night they rushed upon the boat which was drawn up
to the shore, killed the white men and released the
captives. He also stated that all the Indians engaged
in the affray, excepting two, had since died of the
small-pox.
This plausible story could not be disproved. The
magistrates of Massachusetts, high-minded and honorable
men, wished to treat the Indians not merely
with justice, but with humanity. It could not be
denied that, admitting the facts to be as stated by
Sassacus, the Indians had performed a heroic act—one
for which they deserved praise rather than censure.
The Governor of Massachusetts therefore accepted
this explanation, and resumed his friendly alliance
with the treacherous Pequots.
Roger Williams, who had taken up his residence
in Rhode Island, had secured the confidence of the
Indians to a wonderful degree. He exposed himself,
apparently, to the greatest perils, without any sense
of danger. He had acquired wonderful facility in
speaking the language of the Narragansets, in the
midst of whom he dwelt. There were still so many
indications that the Pequots were plotting hostilities,
that the Governor and Council of Massachusetts wrote
to Mr. Williams, urging him to go to the seat of Canonicus,
and dissuade him from entering into any coalition
with the Pequots, should such be in process of
formation. This truly good man immediately left his
home and embarked alone, in a canoe, to skirt the
coast of Narraganset Bay, upon his errand of mercy.
It is probable that he made this journey in a birch
canoe, paddling his way over the smooth waters of the
sheltered bays. He encountered many hardships,
and many great perils, as occasional storms arose,
dashing the surf upon the shore. After several days
of such lonely voyaging, he reached the royal residence
of Canonicus. The barbarian chieftain was
at home, and it so happened that when Mr. Williams
arrived at his wigwam, he found several Pequot
warriors there, who had come on an embassage
from Sassacus to engage the Narragansets in
the war.
For three days this bold man remained alone
among these savages, endeavoring, in every way, to
thwart the endeavors of the Pequot warriors. These
agents of Sassacus were enraged at Mr. Williams’ influence
in circumventing their plans. They plotted
his massacre, and every night Mr. Williams had occasion
to fear that he would not behold the light of
another morning. But Canonicus, unlettered savage
as he was, had sufficient intelligence to appreciate
the fearlessness and true grandeur of character of Mr.
Williams. He dismissed the discomfited Pequots,
refusing to enter into any alliance with them. He
renewed his treaty of friendship with the English, and
engaged to send a large party of his warriors to co-operate
with them in repelling the threatened assault
of the Pequots.
The benefits thus conferred upon the English by
the efforts of Mr. Roger Williams were incalculable.
Many distant tribes, who were on the eve of joining
Sassacus, alarmed by the defection of the Narragansets,
also withdrew; and thus the Pequots were compelled
to enter upon the war with forces considerably
weaker than they had originally intended. Still they
were foes greatly to be dreaded. The English settlements
were now widely scattered, and each was in
itself feeble. The Pequots could marshal four thousand
of as fierce warriors as earth has ever seen.
A small bag of pounded corn would furnish each warrior
with food for many days. They could traverse
the forest trails with almost the velocity of the wind.
Rushing upon some unprotected hamlet at midnight,
with torch and tomahawk, they could, in one awful
hour, leave behind them but smouldering ashes and
gory corpses. Disappearing, like wolves, in the impenetrable
forest, they could again rush upon any
lonely farm-house, leagues away, and thus, with but
little danger to themselves, spread ruin far and wide.
No man in the scattered settlements could fall asleep
at night without the fear that the hideous war-whoop
of the Indian would rouse him and his family to a
cruel death before morning.
The Pequots were continually perpetrating new
acts of violence, while the English, with great forbearance,
were doing everything in their power to
avert the open breaking out of hostilities. To add to
the embarrassment of the English they received conclusive
evidence that Captains Norton and Stone,
with their boats’ crew, were wantonly murdered by
the Indians, and that the statement of extenuating
circumstances, made by Sassacus, was an entire fabrication.
The forbearance of the English only stimulated
the insolence of the Pequots.
In July 1635, John Oldham ventured on a trading
expedition to the Pequot country. He went as an
agent of the Massachusetts colony, one object being
to ascertain the disposition of the savages. The Indians
captured his boat, killed Captain Oldham, horribly
mutilating his body, and the rest of the crew, two
or three in number, were carried off as captives. The
time for attempts at conciliation was at an end. It
was resolved to prosecute the war with all vigor, and
so to punish the Pequots as to give them a new idea
of the power of the English, and to present a warning
to all the other savages against the repetition of such
outrages.
Plymouth colony furnished fifty soldiers, commanded
by Captain Miles Standish. Massachusetts
raised two hundred men. The settlements on the
Connecticut furnished ninety men. The Mohegans
and Narragansets sent to the English camp of rendezvous
about two hundred warriors, promising many
more. It was decided to strike the Pequots a sudden
and heavy blow. We cannot here enter into the details
of the fierce and decisive war which ensued.
These military bands rendezvoused on the shores
of Narraganset bay, and commenced a rapid march
through the forest. The Narragansets were exceedingly
jubilant in the prospect of inflicting vengeance
upon a foe who had often compelled them to bite the
dust. As they hurried along through the narrow trails
towards the Pequot territory, volunteer Narragansets
joined them until five hundred feathered warriors
were in their train.
The Indian guides led them to a strong fort, on
the banks of the river Mystic. A large number of
Pequot warriors were assembled here, quite unapprehensive
of the attack which was about to fall terribly
upon them. Silently, in the night the English and
the Indians surrounded them, that there might be no
escape.
“And so,” writes Governor Bradford, “assaulted
them with great courage, shooting amongst them, and
entering the fort with all speed. Those that first
entered found sharp resistance from the enemy, who
both shot at and grappled with them. Others ran
into their houses, and brought out fire and set them
on fire, which soon took in their mats, and, standing
close together, with the wind, all was quickly in a
flame. Thereby more were burned to death than
were otherwise slain. It burned their bow-strings,
and rendered them unserviceable. Those that escaped
the fire were slain with the sword. Some were
hewed to pieces, others were run through with their
rapiers, so that they were quickly dispatched, and
very few escaped. It was conceived that they thus
destroyed about four hundred at this time.
“It was a fearful sight to see them thus frying in
the fire, the streams of blood quenching the same,
and horrible was the scent thereof. But the victory
seemed a sweet sacrifice, and they gave the praise
thereof to God, who had wrought so wonderfully for
them, thus to give them so speedy a victory over so
proud and insulting an enemy.”47
“The Narraganset Indians all this while stood round
about, but aloof from all danger, and left the whole
execution to the English, except it were the stopping
of any that broke away; insulting over their enemies
in this their ruin and misery, when they were writhing
in the flames. After this service was thus happily accomplished,
they marched to the water side, where
they met with some of their vessels, by which they
had refreshing with victuals and other necessaries.”
The war was continued with vigor, and the Pequot
warriors became nearly exterminated. Sassacus fled
to the Mohawks, in New York. They cut off his
head. Thus the war ended. The Pequots were no
longer to be feared. Driven from their homes, they
took refuge, in their dispersion, in different tribes,
and this formidable barbaric nation became extinct.
War is always demoralizing. Many, rioting in its
scenes of carnage and of crime, lose all sense of humanity,
and become desperadoes. After the close of
the Pequot war, a young fellow, lusty and desperate,
by the name of Arthur Peach, who had done valiant
service in cutting down the Indians, felt a strong disinclination
to return to the monotony of peaceful life.
He became thoroughly dissolute, a wild adventurer,
ripe for any crime. To escape the consequences of
some of his misdeeds, he undertook, with three boon
companions, as bad as himself, to escape to the Dutch
colony at the mouth of the Hudson. As they were
travelling through the woods they stopped to rest,
and, kindling a fire, sat down to smoke their pipes.
An Indian came along, who had a quantity of wampum,
which had become valuable as currency, recognized
by all the tribes. They invited him to sit down
and smoke with them. As they were thus smoking together,
Peach said to his companions that he meant
to kill the Indian, “for the rascal,” said he, “has undoubtedly
killed many white men.” The Indian, who
did not understand English, was unsuspicious of danger.
Peach, watching his opportunity, thrust his
sword through his body once or twice, and taking
from him his wampum and some other valuables, he
and his companions hurried on their way, leaving him
as they supposed, dead.
Though mortally wounded, the Indian so far revived
as to reach some of his friends, when, having
communicated to them the facts of the murder, he
died. The men were all arrested. The proof was so
positive that they made no denial of their guilt. They
were all condemned, and three were executed, one
having made his escape. Francis Baylies, commenting
upon this occurrence, writes:
“This execution is an undeniable proof of that
stern sense of duty which was cherished by the Pilgrims.
To put three Englishmen to death for the
murder of one Indian, without compulsion, or without
any apprehension of consequences, for it does not
appear that any application was made on the part of
the Indians, for the punishment of the murderers,
and they might have been pacified by the death of
one, and probably even without that, denotes a degree
of moral culture unknown in new settlements.
It stands in our annals without a parallel instance.
The truth of the fact is avouched by all our early historians,
and it stands an eternal and imperishable
monument of stern, unsparing, inflexible justice.
And, in all probability it was not without its earthly
reward, for the Indians, convinced of the justice of
the English, abstained from all attempts to avenge
their wrongs, by their own acts, for many years.”48
The Plymouth colonists were still much embarrassed
in consequence of their relations with their
partners in England, to whom they were still considerably
indebted. The agent of the company there
wrote that he could not make up his accounts, unless
some one from the colony should come over to England
to aid him; and he urged that Mr. Winslow
should be sent. But Mr. Winslow was afraid to go.
Neither was he willing that any of his partners should
go. The angry tone of letters from England led him
to apprehend serious danger. “For he was persuaded,”
writes Governor Bradford, “that if any of
them went they would be arrested, and an action of
such a sum laid upon them as they should not procure
bail, but must lie in prison; and then they would
bring them to what they list.”
Still it was very important that some one should
go. Captain Standish was applied to. He seems to
have had as little fear of an English prison as of the
tomahawks and arrows of the Indians. Without any
hesitancy he was ready to embark in the perilous enterprise.
But upon mature deliberation his more
cautious friends decided it not to be prudent to expose
him to such peril. But the spirit of justice,
which inspired them in all their transactions, is again
conspicuous. They offered to submit the matter to
any gentlemen and merchants of the Massachusetts
colony, whom the company in England themselves
might choose. Before these commissioners both sides
should have a hearing. “We will be bound,” they
added, “to stand by their decision, and make good
their award, though it should cost us all we have in
the world.”
The company in England declined this magnanimous
offer. In the year 1645 Elder Brewster died, at
the advanced age of eighty-four years. He was in
Duxbury the next neighbor and the ever warm friend
of Miles Standish. Among the remarkable men who
composed the Plymouth colony, he was one of the
most remarkable. By birth, education and wealth he
occupied a high position in English society. In his
earlier days he was the companion of ministers of
state. He was familiar with the magnificence of
courts, having represented his sovereign in foreign
embassage. His ample fortune had accustomed him
to the refinements and elegances of life. He might
doubtless have spent his days in ease, honor and opulence.
But, true to his religious convictions, all these
he cast aside to share the lot of the humble and persecuted
Puritans. He deemed conformity to the mode
of worship adopted by the Parliament as sinful. And
“he chose rather to suffer affliction with the people
of God, than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season.”
In the records of the first church in Plymouth
we find a very noble tribute to his memory, probably
written by Secretary Morton. Speaking of his embassage,
in his early manhood, to the Low Countries,
with Mr. Davison, Mr. Morton writes,
“He received possession of the cautionary towns;
and, in token thereof, the keys of Flushing being delivered
to him in her majesty’s name, he kept them
for some time, and committed them to his servant,
who kept them under his pillow on which he slept,
the first night, and, on his return the States honored
him with a gold chain, which his master committed to
him, and commanded him to wear it when they arrived
in England, as they rode through the country
until they came to the court.
“Afterwards he went and lived in the country, in
good esteem among his friends and the good gentlemen
of those parts, especially the godly and religious.
He did much good in the country where he
lived, in promoting and furthering religion, not only
by his practice and example, and encouraging others,
but by procuring good preachers for the places thereabouts,
and drawing on others to assist and help forward
in such a work, he himself commonly deepest in
the charge and often above his abilities. In this state
he continued many years, doing the best good he
could, and walking according to the light he saw, until
the Lord revealed further unto him.
“And, in the end, by the tyranny of the bishops
against godly preachers and people, in silencing the
one, and persecuting the other, he, with many more
of those times, began to look further into particulars,
and to see into the unlawfulness of their callings, and
the burden of many anti-Christian corruptions, which
both he and they endeavored to cast off, as they also
did.
“After they were joined into communion he was
a special stay and help to them. They ordinarily met
at his house on the Lord’s day, which was within the
manor of a bishop. With great love he entertained
them when they came, making provision for them to
his great charge, and continued so to do while they
should remain in England. And when they were to
remove out of the country, he was the first in all adventures.
He was the chief of those who were taken
at Boston, in Lincolnshire, and suffered the greatest
loss, and one of the seven that were kept longest in
prison, and after bound over to the assizes.
“After he came to Holland he suffered much
hardship, after he had spent the most of his means,
having a great charge and many children. And in
regard to his former breeding and course, not so fit
for many employments as others were, especially such
as were toilsome and laborious. Yea, he ever bore
his condition with much cheerfulness and content.
Towards the latter part of those twelve years, spent
in Holland, his outward condition was mended, and he
lived well and plentiful; for he fell into a way, by
reason he had the Latin tongue, to teach many students,
who had a desire to learn the English tongue.
By his method they quickly attained it, with great
facility, for he drew rules to learn it by after the Latin
manner. And many gentlemen, both Danes and
Germans, resorted to him, as they had time, from
their other studies, some of them being great men’s
sons.
“But now, removing into this country, all these
things were laid aside again, and a new course of
living must be framed unto; in which he was in no
way unwilling to take his part, and to bear his burden
with the rest, living many times without bread or
corn, many months together; having many times
nothing but fish, and often wanting that also; and
drunk nothing but water for many years together,
until five or six years of his death. And yet he lived,
by the blessing of God, in health until very old age.”
Elder Brewster was an accomplished gentleman,
a genial friend, an eloquent preacher, and a fervent
Christian. History has transmitted to us the record
of but few characters so well balanced in all energetic,
harmonious, and lovely traits. He died as he had
lived, tranquilly, peacefully, in the enjoyment of all
his faculties. His sickness was short, confining him
to his bed but one day. He could converse with his
friends until within a few hours of his last breath.
About ten o’clock in the evening of April 18th, 1644,
he fell asleep.
“Asleep in Jesus, blessed sleep!
From which none ever wake to weep.”
