Part 17

This is a case where individuals may, perhaps, differ in opinion as to the strict moral propriety of the deed. The necessity of such an act, for relief from suffering, may be estimated differently, according to the different theories which men have adopted. Yet it seems to have been generally, if not universally approved by those who lived contemporaneously with the transaction; and who, from the stern integrity of their character, and from their acquaintance with the circumstances of the country, were peculiarly well fitted to judge.

Such were some of the striking events during the period of King William's War; a war which continued nearly ten years, and brought incalculable distress upon the colonies. The peace of Ryswick, in 1697, put an end to it; but this peace proved to be of short duration.

IX. QUEEN ANNE'S WAR.

PRINCIPAL Scenes of this War in America--Attack upon Deerfield--Captivity and Sufferings of Rev. Mr. Williams--Other Disasters of the War--Peace--Death of Queen Anne--Accession of George I.--Continued Sufferings of the Colonies of Massachusetts and New Hampshire--Peace concluded with the Indians at Boston.

King William having deceased in 1702, Queen Anne was seated on the British throne, and war soon began again to rage throughout Europe. England and France, including Spain also, drew the sword, to settle some unadjusted claims between them, and the contest of the parent countries, as usual, soon involved their American colonies. The states of Massachusetts and New Hampshire, became the principal scenes of the war in America, the colony of New York being secured from aggression through the neutrality of the Five Nations on her borders. The war, which lasted more than ten years, is generally denominated _Queen Anne's War_, and was attended with the usual barbarous and distressing results incident to savage warfare.

The drama opened at _Deerfield_, on the Connecticut river, on the 19th of February, 1704. The preliminaries to it had occurred a little before in the destruction of several small settlements from Casco to Wells in Maine, and the killing and capture of one hundred and thirty people in the aggregate. This was in contravention to the solemn assurance given by the eastern Indians, of peace with New England. As Deerfield was a frontier town, the enemy had watched it for the purpose of capture from an early period. Indeed, it had been constantly exposed to inroads, during King William's War, but had resolutely maintained its ground, and increased in size and population, especially from the termination of that war. It was palisaded, though imperfectly; several detached houses were protected by slight fortifications, and twenty soldiers had been placed within it. They had, however, been quartered about in different houses, and, forgetting their duty as soldiers, were surprised with the rest of the inhabitants. There was a great depth of snow upon the ground, a circumstance which gave the enemy an easy entrance over the pickets. The commander of the French was Hertel de Rouville.

The assailants, in approaching the place, used every precaution to avoid disturbing the soldiery or the inhabitants by noise in walking over the crusted snow, stopping occasionally, that the sound of their feet might appear like the fitful gusts of the wind. But the precaution was unnecessary, for the guard within the fort had retired, and fallen asleep. None, of all who were in the village, awaked, except to be put immediately into the sleep of death; to be doomed to a a horrible captivity, or to effect a difficult and hazardous escape into the adjacent woods amidst the snows of winter. The houses were assaulted by parties detached in different directions; the doors were broken open, the astonished people dragged from their beds, and pillage and personal violence in all its forms ensued. They who attempted resistance, were felled by the tomahawk or musket.

Some of the separate features of this work of destruction and scene of agony, deserve particular notice, and will ever call up the painful sympathies of the reader of history. The minister of the place, the Rev. John Williams, who subsequently wrote a narrative of the affair, and of his own captivity, was a conspicuous actor and sufferer in the sad tragedy. Early in the assault, which was not long before the break of day, about twenty Indians attacked his house. Instantly leaping from his bed, he ran towards the door, and perceived a party making their entrance into the house. He called to awaken two soldiers who were sleeping in the chamber, and had only returned to the bedside for his arms, when the enemy rushed into the room. Upon this, as he says, "I reached my hands up to the bed-tester for my pistol, uttering a short petition to God, expecting a present passage through the _valley of the shadow of death_." He levelled it at the breast of the foremost Indian, but it missed fire: he was immediately seized by three Indians, who secured his pistol, and, binding him fast, kept him naked in the cold, nearly the space of an hour. One of these captors was a leader or captain, who soon met the fate he merited. Says Mr. Williams, "the judgment of God did not long slumber, for by sun-rising he received a mortal shot from my next neighbor's house." This house was not a garrison, but being defended by seven resolute men, and as many resolute women, withstood the efforts of three hundred French and Indians. They attacked it repeatedly, and tried various methods to set it on fire, but without success; in the mean while suffering from the fire which was poured upon them from the windows and loop-holes of the building. The enemy gave up the attempt in despair. Mrs. Williams having been confined but a few weeks previously, was feeble--a circumstance which rendered her case hopeless; but her agony was intensely increased by witnessing the murder of two of her little ones, who were dragged to the door, and butchered, as was also a black woman belonging to the family. Rifling the house with the utmost rudeness, the enemy seized Mrs. Williams, ill as she was, and five remaining children, with a view to carry them into captivity.

While these transactions were in progress, a lodger in the house, Captain Stoddard, seized his cloak, and leaped from a chamber window. He escaped across Deerfield river, and finding it necessary to secure his feet from injury, he tore the cloak into pieces, and wrapped them up in it, and was thus enabled, though in great exhaustion, to reach Hatfield. An assault was made upon the house of Captain John Sheldon, but the door was so strong and so firmly bolted, that the enemy found it difficult to break or penetrate it. Their only resort, therefore, was to perforate it with their tomahawks. Through the aperture thus made, they thrust a musket, fired, and killed Mrs. Sheldon, a ball striking her as she was rising from her bed in an adjoining room. The mark of the ball was long to be seen in a timber near the bed, the house having been carefully preserved, bearing upon the front door the marks of the Indian hatchet. In the mean time, the son and son's wife of Captain Sheldon, sprang from a chamber window at the east end of the building; but unfortunately for the lady, her ankle became sprained by the fall, and being unable to walk, she was seized by the Indians. The husband escaped into the adjoining forest, and reached Hatfield. The enemy at length gaining possession of the house, reserved it on account of its size as a dépôt for the prisoners taken in the village.

At the expiration of about two hours, the enemy having collected the prisoners, and plundered and set fire to the buildings, took up their march from the place. Forty-seven persons had been put to death, including those killed in making the defence. "We were carried over the river to the foot of the mountain, about a mile from my house," says Mr. Williams, "where we found a great number of our Christian neighbors--men, women, and children--to the number of one hundred, nineteen of whom were afterwards murdered in the way, and two starved to death near Coos in a time of great scarcity and famine the savages underwent there. When we came to the foot of the mountain, they took away our shoes, and gave us Indian shoes, to prepare us for our journey."

At this spot, a portion of the enemy was overtaken by a party of the English, consisting of the few who had escaped, together with the men who had defended the two houses, and a small number from Hatfield, and a brisk fight ensued. The little band, however, was in danger of being surrounded by the main body of the enemy's troops, as they came into the action, and, accordingly, they were compelled to retreat. They left nine of their number slain. The attack on the enemy, under such circumstances, indicated the resolute and sympathizing spirit of the people, but it had well nigh proved fatal to the prisoners. Rouville, fearing, at one time, a defeat, had ordered the latter to be put to death, but, providentially, the bearer of the message was killed before he executed his orders. They were, nevertheless, held in readiness to be sacrificed in the event of disasters happening to the enemy.

Soon after the termination of the skirmish, Rouville commenced his march for Canada. Three hundred miles of a trackless wilderness were to be traversed, and that too at a very inclement season of the year. The prospects of the captives were gloomy beyond description. Many were women, at that time under circumstances requiring the most tender treatment. Some were young children, not sufficiently strong to endure the fatigues of traveling. Infants there were, who must be carried in their parents' arms, or left behind to be butchered by the savage or frozen on the snow; and, of the adult males, several were suffering from severe wounds.

The first day's journey was but four miles, and was signalized by the murder of an infant. The Indians, however, seemed disposed generally to favor the captives, by carrying on their backs such children as were incapable of traveling. From mercenary motives, they wished to keep all alive that they could, as the captives would bring a price, or be serviceable to them in some way, in Canada. It was no sentiment of compassion that moved them; for, as soon as their patience failed them, the miserable captive, whether man, woman, or child, was knocked on the head. At night, they encamped in a meadow, in what is now Greenfield, where they cleared away the snow, spread boughs of trees, and made slight cabins of brush, for the accommodation of the prisoners. The strongest of the latter were bound after the Indian manner that night, and every subsequent night, in order to prevent escape. In the very first night, one man broke away and escaped, and, at the same time, Mr. Williams, who was considered the principal of the captives, was informed by the commander-in-chief, that if any more attempted to escape, the rest should be put to death.

In the second day's march occurred the death of Mrs. Williams. In the course of the route, it became necessary to cross Creek river, at the upper part of Deerfield meadow. From some change of conductors, Mr. Williams, who had before been forbidden to speak to his fellow-captives, was now permitted to do it, and even to assist his distressed wife, who had begun to be exhausted. But it was their last meeting, and most affecting was the scene. She very calmly told him that her strength was fast failing, and that he would soon lose her. At the same time, she did not utter the language of discouragement or of complaint, in view of the hardness of her fortune. When the company halted, Mr. Williams' former conductor resumed his place, and ordered him into the front, and his wife was obliged to travel unaided. They had now arrived at the margin of Green river. This they passed by wading through the water, which was about two feet in depth, and running with great rapidity. They now came to a steep mountain, which it was necessary to ascend. The narrative of Mr. Williams says, here: "No sooner had I overcome the difficulty of that ascent, but I was permitted to sit down, and to be unburthened of my pack. I sat pitying those who were behind, and entreated my master to let me go down and help my wife, but he refused. I asked each of the prisoners, as they passed by me, after her, and heard that, passing through the above said river, she fell down, and was plunged all over in the water; after which, she traveled not far; for, at the foot of the mountain, the cruel and blood-thirsty savage who took her, slew her with his hatchet, at one stroke." The same day, a young woman and child were killed and scalped.

After some days, they reached the mouth of White river, where Rouville divided his force into several parties, who took different routes to the St. Lawrence. Mr. Williams belonged to a party which reached the Indian village St. Francis, on the St. Lawrence, by the way of Lake Champlain. After a short residence at that village, he was sent to Montreal, where he was treated with kindness by the governor, Vaudreuil.

In the year 1706, fifty-seven of these captives were conveyed to Boston in a flag-ship, among whom were Mr. Williams and all his remaining children (two having been ransomed and sent home before), except his daughter Eunice, whom, notwithstanding all his exertions, he was never able to redeem, and whom, at the tender age of ten years, he was obliged to leave among the Indians. As she grew up under Indian influence, having no other home, and no other friends who could counsel and guide her, she adopted the manners and customs of the Indians, settled with them in a domestic state, and, by her husband, had several children. She became also, it is said, a Catholic, and ever afterwards firmly attached to that religion. This, perhaps, is scarcely a matter of surprise, as the sentiment was, the more easily instilled into her mind, from her age and the circumstances in which she was placed. Some time after the war, she visited her relations at Deerfield, in company with her husband. She was habited in the Indian costume, and, strange as it may seem, though every persuasive was used to induce her to abandon the savages, and to remain among her connections, all was in vain. She continued to lead the life of a savage, and, though she repeated her visits to her friends in New England, she uniformly persisted in wearing her blanket and counting her beads. Two of the children of Mr. Williams, after their return, became worthy and respectable ministers; one at Waltham, the other at Long Meadow, in Springfield.

The captive Mr. Williams, upon his return to the colony, was desired, by the remnant of his Deerfield friends, to resume the duties of his pastoral office in that place. He complied with their request, and, having rëmarried, reared another family of children, and died in 1729.

During Queen Anne's War, no other single tragedy occurred like that of Deerfield; but, at all times, the enemy were prowling about the frontier settlements, watching, in concealment, for an opportunity to strike a sudden blow, and, having done irreparable mischief, to escape with safety. The women and children retired into garrisons; the men left their fields uncultivated, or labored with arms at their sides, and having sentinels posted at every point whence an attack could be apprehended. Yet, notwithstanding these precautions, the Indians were often successful, killing sometimes an individual, sometimes a whole family, sometimes a band of laborers, ten or twelve in number; and, so alert were they in their movements, that but few of them fell into the hands of the whites.

Queen Anne died in 1714, and George I., of the house of Brunswick, ascended the throne of England. During the reign of the latter, a state of warfare existed between the enemy and the colony of Massachusetts and New Hampshire for several years, distressing to the former, but attended by few signal conflicts, disasters, or victories. At length, however, it was discovered that the Indians, although instigated still by the French, were not averse to peace. Accordingly, towards the latter part of the year 1725, a treaty was concluded at Boston, and the next spring was ratified at Falmouth. A period of tranquillity succeeded this event in the northern colonies.

X. WAR OF GEORGE II.

WAR between England and France, 1744--French take Canso--Effect of this Declaration of War upon the Indians--Attack upon Great Meadows (now Putney)--Also, upon Ashuelot (now Keene)--Expedition against Louisburg--Particulars of it--Surrender of it--Continuance of the War--Various places assaulted--Savage Barbarities following the surrender of Fort Massachusetts--Peace declared.

The attempts to maintain peace with the Indians were successful through a number of years. The most happy expedient which the English adopted for that purpose, was the erection of _trading-houses_, where goods were furnished by government to be exchanged for furs, which the Indians brought to them. This had the effect of conciliating the Indians, and, as it stimulated their industry, it was more serviceable to them than direct gifts. In the course of time, however, they began to be restive. Their intercourse with the whites, for trading purposes, renewed reminiscences of the attacks and cruelties committed upon the exterior settlements. The Indians were wont to boast of their feats, and of the tortures inflicted upon the captured English; in some instances, the friends of those with whom they were now holding intercourse. They were disposed frequently, when provoked or intoxicated, to threaten to come again, with the war-whoop and the tomahawk. Hence, individual acts of violence occasionally took place, at or near the trading-towns, and it was evident that, whenever war between the English and French should commence, there would be a reiteration of the former scenes and acts of atrocity.

The day of blood at length arrived. It was in the year 1744, that England and France again commenced hostilities. The intelligence no sooner crossed the Atlantic, than the frontiers of the colonies became the area of the conflict, and the blood-thirsty savage took up his hatchet, with the intention of giving vent to his long pent-up vengeance. George II. had been on the throne several years.

Before the proclamation of war was known at Boston, the French governor of Cape Breton sent a party to take Canso, which was effected, and the captives were conveyed to Louisburg. The proclamation of war seems to have had a singular effect on the Indians, who had manifested a degree of attachment to the whites. It awakened the naturally ferocious feelings of the savage--feelings that had been for some time suspended; and, forgetting the many ties of acquaintance and friendly intercourse, he easily fell back upon those habits of carnage and plunder, in which he was originally nurtured. The effect of the proclamation of war, on all the other Indians, was to have been expected, as gratifying their long-indulged desires of mingling in the scenes of murder and pillage. It was an unhappy circumstance, in regard to the Indians who had been indulged with so intimate an intercourse with the whites, that they were perfectly acquainted with all the routes from Canada to the various English settlements, thus serving as guides for others, or facilitating their predatory irruptions.

With a wise foresight, upon the first intimation of war, several new forts were ordered to be built in exposed parts of the country, the western regiments of militia in Massachusetts were called on for their quotas of men to defend the frontiers in that quarter, and scouting parties were employed in various places for the purpose of discovering the incursions of the enemy, and ferreting out their trails. But happily, during the first year, they remained quiet, or were secretly making their preparations for the part they intended hereafter to enact.

The Indians commenced operations in July, 1745, at the _Great Meadow_, now Putney, on the Connecticut, and a few days after at upper Ashuelot (Keene), killing at each place an individual. Somewhat later in the year, the Great Meadow was the scene of another attack, with a small loss to the whites, as also to the Indians. The vigilance of the colonists, however, was so unceasing, that but little opportunity at this time was afforded for the gratification of their malignity.

The eyes of the New England colonists were now fixed on one great enterprise, the reduction of _Louisburg_, on the island of Cape Breton, a place of incredible strength, which had been twenty-five years in building. Accordingly, four thousand troops from the several colonies, as far as Pennsylvania, were raised, the command of which was assigned to William Pepperell. On the 4th of April, 1745, the expedition had arrived at Canso. Here they were detained three weeks on account of the ice. At length Commodore Warren, according to orders from England, arrived at Canso in a ship of sixty guns, with three other ships of forty guns each. After a consultation with Pepperell, the commodore proceeded to cruise before Louisburg. Soon after, the general sailed with the whole fleet. On the 30th of April, landing his troops, he invested the city. A portion of the troops on the north-east part of the harbor, meeting with the warehouses containing the naval stores, set them on fire. The smoke, driven by the wind into the grand battery, so terrified the French, that they abandoned it. After spiking the guns, they returned to the city. Colonel Vaughan, who conducted the first column, took possession of the deserted battery. With extreme difficulty, cannon were drawn up for fourteen nights successively, from the landing-place, through a morass to the camp. It was done by men with straps over their shoulders, and sinking to their knees in the mud; a service which oxen or horses on such ground could not have performed. The cannon of the forsaken battery were drilled, and turned with good effect on the city.

On the 7th of May, a summons was sent to the commanding officer of Louisburg, but he refused to surrender the place. The efforts of the assailants were then renewed, and put forth to the utmost, both by the commodore's fleet and the land forces. Their efforts were at length crowned with success. Discouraged by the whole aspect of affairs, Duchambon, the French commander, felt under the necessity of surrendering; and, accordingly, on the 16th of June, articles of capitulation were signed.

This expedition, and its success, are one of the most striking events in American warfare. It established the New England character for a daring and enterprising spirit, and it became equally the boast and the fear of Britain. The daring and the prowess that effected such an achievement, might one day be arrayed against the integrity of the British empire in America. Pious people considered that this victory was wrought out by a special guiding and cöoperating Providence.

After the loss of Louisburg, the conflicts on the borders became more frequent and fatal. The enemy was exasperated, and determined to give the colonists no rest. Various places on the Connecticut were accordingly attacked, but chiefly settlements in New Hampshire, the results of which were very distressing to individual families. Charlestown, Keene, New Hopkinton, Contoocook, Rochester, and many other places whose situations exposed them to the enemy were attacked, and a greater or less number of individuals were killed, wounded, or captured.