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 handfulls 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.