Thirteen years had almost elapsed since the seizure of the 400 Indians,
at Cocheco, by Major Waldron; during all which time an inextinguishable
thirst of revenge had been cherished among them, which never till now
found opportunity for gratification. Wonolanset, one of the sachems of
Penacook, who was dismissed with his people at the time of the seizure,
always observed his father’s dying charge, not to quarrel with the
English; but Hagkins, another sachem, who had been treated with neglect
by Cranfield, was more ready to listen to the seducing invitations of
Castine’s emissaries. Some of those Indians, who were then seized and
sold into slavery abroad, had found their way home, and could not rest
till they had their revenge. Accordingly a confederacy being formed
between the tribes of Penacook and Pigwacket, and the strange Indians
(as they were called) who were incorporated with them, it was determined
to surprise the major and his neighbours, among whom they had all this
time been peaceably conversant.
In that part of the town of Dover which lies about the first falls in
the river Cocheco, were five garrisoned houses; three on the north side,
called respectively, Waldron, Otis, and Heard; and two on the south side,
Peter Coffin and his son’s. These houses were surrounded with timber
walls, the gates of which, as well as the house doors, were secured with
bolts and bars. The neighbouring families retired to these houses by
night; but by an unaccountable negligence, no watch was kept. The Indians
who were daily passing through the town, visiting and trading with the
inhabitants, as usual in time of peace, viewed their situation with an
attentive eye. Some hints of a mischievous design had been given out by
their squaws; but in such dark and ambiguous terms that no one could
comprehend their meaning. Some of the people were uneasy; but Waldron,
who, from a long course of experience, was intimately acquainted with
the Indians, and on other occasions had been ready enough to suspect
them, was now so thoroughly secure, that when some of the people hinted
their fears to him, he merrily bade them to go and plant their pumpkins,
saying that he would tell them when the Indians would break out. The very
evening before the mischief was done, being told by a young man that the
town was full of Indians, and the people were much concerned; he answered
that he knew the Indians very well, and there was no danger.
The plan which the Indians had preconcerted was, that two squaws should
go to each of the garrisoned houses in the evening, and ask leave to
lodge by the fire; that in the night when the people were asleep they
should open the doors and gates, and give the signal by a whistle,
upon which the strange Indians, who were to be within hearing, should
rush in, and take their long meditated revenge. This plan being ripe
for execution, on the evening of Thursday the 27th of June, two squaws
applied to each of the garrisons for lodging, as they frequently did in
time of peace. They were admitted into all but the younger Coffin’s,
and the people, at their request, shewed them how to open the doors, in
case they should have occasion to go out in the night. Mesandowit, one
of their chiefs, went to Waldron’s garrison, and was kindly entertained,
as he had often been before. The squaws told the major, that a number
of Indians were coming to trade with him the next day, and Mesandowit
while at supper, with his usual familiarity, said, “Brother Waldron, what
would you do if the strange Indians should come?” The major carelessly
answered, that he could assemble 100 men, by lifting up his finger. In
this unsuspecting confidence the family retired to rest.
When all was quiet, the gates were opened and the signal given. The
Indians entered, set a guard at the door, and rushed into the major’s
apartment, which was an inner room. Awakened by the noise, he jumped out
of bed, and though now advanced in life to the age of eighty years, he
retained so much vigour as to drive them with his sword through two or
three doors, but as he was returning for his other arms, they came behind
him, stunned him with a hatchet, drew him into his hall, and seating him
in an elbow chair on a long table insultingly asked him, “Who shall judge
Indians now?” They then obliged the people in the house to get them some
victuals: and when they had done eating, they cut the major across the
breast and belly with knives, each one with a stroke saying, “I cross out
my account.” They then cut off his nose and ears, forcing them into his
mouth—and when, spent with the loss of blood, he was falling down from
the table, one of them held his own sword under him, which put an end to
his misery. They also killed his son in law Abraham Lee; but took his
daughter Lee with several others, and having pillaged the house, left it
on fire. Otis’s garrison, which was next to the major’s, met with the
same fate; he was killed, with several others, and his wife and child
were captured. Heard’s was saved by the barking of a dog just as the
Indians were entering: Elder Wentworth, who was awakened by the noise,
pushed them out, and falling on his back, set his feet against the gate
and held it till he had alarmed the people; two balls were fired through
it but both missed him. Coffin’s house was surprised, but as the Indians
had no particular enmity to him, they spared his life, and the lives of
his family, and contended themselves with pillaging the house. Finding
a bag of money, they made him throw it by handfuls on the floor, while
they amused themselves in scrambling for it. They then went to the house
of his son who would not admit the squaws in the evening, and summoned
him to surrender, promising him quarter: he declined their offer, and
determined to defend his house, till they brought out his father and
threatened to kill him before his eyes; filial affection then overcame
his resolution, and he surrendered. They put both families together into
a deserted house, intending to reserve them for prisoners; but while the
Indians were busy in plundering, they all escaped.
Twenty-three people were killed in this surprisal, and twenty-nine
were captured; five or six houses with the mills were burned; and so
expeditious were the Indians in the execution of their plot, that before
the people could be collected from the other parts of the town to oppose
them, they fled with their prisoners and booty. As they passed by Heard’s
garrison in their retreat, they fired upon it, but the people being
prepared and resolved to defend it, and the enemy being in haste, it was
preserved. The preservation of its owner was more remarkable.
Elizabeth Heard, with her three sons and a daughter, and some others,
were returning in the night from Portsmouth; they passed up the river
in their boat unperceived by the Indians, who were then in possession of
the houses; but suspecting danger by the noise which they heard, after
they had landed they betook themselves to Waldron’s garrison, where
they saw lights, which they imagined were set up for direction to those
who might be seeking a refuge. They knocked and begged earnestly for
admission, but no answer being given, a young man of the company climbed
up the wall, and saw, to his inexpressible surprise, an Indian standing
in the door of the house with his gun. The woman was so overcome with the
fright that she was unable to fly, but begged her children to shift for
themselves, and they with heavy hearts left her. When she had a little
recovered she crawled into some bushes, and lay there till day-light: she
then perceived an Indian coming toward her with a pistol in his hand,
he looked at her and went away; returning, he looked at her again, and
she asked him what he would have. He made no answer, but ran yelling to
the house, and she saw him no more. She kept her place till the house
was burned and the Indians were gone, and then returning home found her
own house safe. Her preservation in these dangerous circumstances was
more remarkable, if (as it is supposed) it was an instance of justice
and gratitude in the Indians: for at the time when the 400 were seized
in 1676, a young Indian escaped and took refuge in her house, where she
concealed him; in return for which kindness he promised her that he
never would kill her, nor any of her family in any future war, and that
he would use his influence with the other Indians to the same purpose.
This Indian was one of the party who surprised the place, and she was
well known to the most of them.
The same day, after the mischief was done, a letter from Secretary
Addington, written by order of the government, directed to Major Waldron,
giving him notice of the intention of the Indians to surprise him under
pretence of trade, fell into the hands of his son. This design was
communicated to Governor Bradstreet by Major Henchman of Chelmsford, who
had learned it of the Indians. The letter was dispatched from Boston, the
day before, by Mr. Weare; but some delay which he met with at Newbury
ferry prevented his arrival in season.
The prisoners taken at this time were mostly carried to Canada, and sold
to the French; and these, so far as can be learned, were the first that
ever were carried thither. One of these prisoners was Sarah Gerrish, a
remarkably fine child, of seven years old, and grand-daughter of Major
Waldron, in whose house she lodged that fatal night. Some circumstances
attending her captivity are truly affecting. When she was awakened by the
noise of the Indians in the house, she crept into another bed, and hid
herself under the clothes to escape their search. She remained in their
hands till the next winter, and was sold from one to another several
times. An Indian girl once pushed her into a river; but, catching by
the bushes, she escaped drowning, yet durst not tell how she came to be
wet. Once she was so weary with travelling, that she did not awake in
the morning till the Indians were gone, and then found herself alone in
the woods, covered with snow, and without any food; having found their
tracks, she went crying after them till they heard her and took her with
them. At another time they kindled a great fire, and the young Indians
told her she was to be roasted. She burst into tears, threw her arms
round her master’s neck, and begged him to save her, which he promised
to do if she would behave well. Being arrived in Canada, she was bought
by the Intendant’s lady, who treated her courteously, and sent her to a
nunnery for education. But when Sir William Phips was at Quebec she was
exchanged, and returned to her friends, with whom she lived till she was
sixteen years old.
The wife of Richard Otis was taken at the same time, with an infant
daughter of three months old. The French priests took this child under
their care, baptised her by the name of Christina, and educated her in
the Romish religion. She passed some time in a nunnery, but declined
taking the veil, and was married to a Frenchman, by whom she had two
children. But her desire to see New England was so strong, that upon an
exchange of prisoners in 1714, being then a widow, she left both her
children, who were not permitted to come with her, and returned home,
where she abjured the Romish faith. M. Siguenot, her former confessor,
wrote her a flattering letter, warning her of her danger, inviting her
to return to the bosom of the catholic church, and repeating many gross
calumnies which had formerly been vented against Luther and the other
reformers. This letter being shown to Governor Burnet, he wrote her a
sensible and masterly answer, refuting the arguments, and detecting the
falsehoods it contained: both these letters were printed. She was married
afterwards to Captain Thomas Baker, who had been taken at Deerfield, in
1704, and lived in Dover, where she was born, till the year 1773. The
Indians had been seduced to the French interest by popish emissaries, who
had begun to fascinate them with their religious and national prejudices.
They had now learned to call the English heretics, and that to extirpate
them as such was meritorious in the sight of heaven. When their minds
were filled with religious frenzy, they became more bitter and implacable
enemies than before; and finding the sale of scalps and prisoners turn
to good account in Canada, they had still farther incitement to continue
their depredations, and prosecute their vengeance.