_The Sickness of Massasoit and End of the Weymouth Colony._
Search for Corn.--Trip to Buzzard’s Bay.--Interesting Incident.--
Energy and Sagacity of Captain Standish.--Hostile Indications.--
Insolence of Witeewamat.--The Plot Defeated.--Sickness of
Massasoit.--The Visit.--Gratitude of the Chief.--Visit to
Corbitant.--Condition of the Weymouth Colony.--The Widespread
Coalition.--Military Expedition of Captain Standish.--His
Heroic Adventures.--End of the Weymouth Colony.
The Governor soon took one or two men and went to Middleborough, the
Namasket of the Indians, to purchase corn. It all had to be brought
home in sacks upon the back. The Indian women aided in transporting it.
The Pilgrims were astonished to see what burdens they would bear. “It
is almost incredible,” writes Roger Williams, “what burdens the poor
women carry of corn, of fish, of beans, of mats, and a child besides.”
An Indian woman, of small stature, would take a hundred weight of corn
upon her shoulders and trudge through the wilderness for miles without
resting. But a small supply of corn could be obtained at Namasket.
The Governor then took an inland trip of sixty miles to an Indian
settlement called Manomet, at the head of Buzzard’s Bay. The distance
across the cape here to Massachusetts Bay is but six miles. They
could, after that short land carriage, by an easy voyage in the boats,
transport their corn to Plymouth. Here the Governor purchased quite a
supply, which he left in the custody of the sachem, Canacum, until the
boats could be sent to fetch it. While here, an incident occurred which
is worthy of record, as illustrative of Indian customs:
It was the month of February. The night was bitterly cold, a fierce
storm raging. The Governor was in the snug wigwam of the sachem,
sitting by the bright fire blazing in the centre of the hut. Two
stranger Indians entered. Without speaking a word they laid aside their
bows and arrows, sat down upon the mats by the fire, took out their
pipes and began to smoke. Having finished their pipes, one of them made
a short address of greeting to the chief, and presented him with a
basket containing tobacco and some beads. The chief received the gift
graciously. The Indian then, in quite a long speech, delivered his
message, which was interpreted to the Governor by Hobbomak. It was as
follows:
Two Indians of the tribe to which the messengers belonged, while
gambling, quarrelled, and one killed the other. The murderer was a man
of special note, and one who could not be well spared. His chief was
unwilling to order his execution. But the sachem of another powerful
tribe had declared that unless he put the offender to death he would
wage war against him with all his force. The chief therefore desired
the advice of his powerful friend, Canacum, as to the course it was
proper for him to pursue.
There was then, for some time, silence. At length Canacum asked the
opinion of all who were present. When Hobbomak was questioned, he
said: “I am a stranger; but it seems to me better that one should die
than many, especially since that one deserves death, and the many are
innocent.” Canacum then directed the messengers to inform their sachem
that in his opinion the murderer should be put to death.
The Governor returned to Plymouth, intending to send Captain Standish
in the shallop, to fetch the corn which he had purchased. Just after
his arrival, a messenger came from John Sanders, in Weymouth, stating
that the colonists there were actually in a starving condition; that
they could obtain no corn from the Indians, as the Indians would not
lend it to them, and that they had no means of buying. Under these
circumstances he said that he should be under the necessity of taking
it from them by force. Weak as the colonists were, by the aid of powder
and bullets, they could, without difficulty, rob the comparatively
defenceless Indians. The Governor remonstrated in the strongest terms
against this plan of robbery. He assured Sanders that such an act
would inevitably combine all the tribes in a coalition against both
colonies, and might lead to the utter extirpation of the English from
this continent. From his own scanty store of corn he sent to Weymouth
a small supply, entreating them to make shift to live, as they did at
Plymouth, upon ground-nuts, clams, and muscles.
In the mean time, Captain Standish took the shallop and sailed to
Sandwich harbor, to get the corn which the Governor had purchased and
ordered to be stored there. It was in the severest of winter weather.
Icy gales swept the ocean, and dashed the surge upon the snow-drifted
beach. They succeeded in entering the harbor, but the first night they
were frozen up there. The outrageous conduct of the Weymouth colonists,
and the threats which they had openly uttered of their intention to rob
the Indians, had spread far and wide, producing great exasperation; and
the natives who were adverse to the colonists were taking advantage of
it to form a general coalition against them.
Captain Standish, upon landing, perceived at once that there was a
change coming over the minds of the Indians. The friendliness they
affected appeared to him constrained and insincere. He was frozen
in, and large numbers of Indians began to gather around him, some
manifestly unfriendly; and there were not a few indications that a
conspiracy was being formed for his destruction. The weather was
so cold that the Pilgrims could not sleep in the shallop, but were
constrained to accept the shelter and the fires found in the Indian
wigwams.
The captain was not a man to be taken by guile. Avoiding all display
of his suspicions, he gave strict charge that a part of the company
should always watch by night while the rest slept. Some of the Indians
stole several articles from the boat. Captain Standish immediately
marched his whole force of six men, and surrounded the wigwam of the
sachem, where many of the most prominent of the Indians were assembled.
He then sent in word to the sachem that as he would not allow himself,
or any of his men, to be guilty of the slightest injustice towards the
Indians, neither would he submit to any injustice from them; that he
held the sachem responsible for the stolen goods, and that unless they
were immediately restored he should obtain redress by force of arms.
The crafty sachem sent agents who, without difficulty, obtained the
goods and secretly conveyed them to the shallop. He then told Captain
Standish that probably he had overlooked them, and he thought that
if he should look more carefully he would find that they were all
there. The captain, understanding this, sent to the shallop, and there
the stolen goods were, lying openly upon the boat’s cuddy. The sachem
however was much alarmed by this decision and boldness manifested by
the captain. In endeavors to win back his favor he brought to him quite
an additional quantity of corn to sell. The captain loaded down his
shallop with the treasure; and, a southerly wind freeing the harbor of
ice, he returned in safety to Plymouth.
A portion of this supply was forwarded to Weymouth. It soon, however,
was consumed, and, impelled by want, in March, Captain Standish again
took the shallop and returned to Manomet, hoping to get an additional
supply of food. He met with a chilling reception, and with increasing
evidence that the Indians were plotting against the colonists. He soon
found the explanation of this. Leaving three men in charge of the
shallop, he took three with him, and went to the wigwam of Canacum, the
sachem. While there, two Massachusett Indians came in. They were from
the immediate vicinity of Weymouth, violent and hostile men, and had
come to Canacum to engage him and his warriors in a coalition against
the English.
“The chief of them,” writes Mr. Winslow, “was called Wituwamat, a
notable insulting villain, one who had formerly imbued his hands in
the blood of English and French, and had often boasted of his own
valor, and derided their weakness, especially because, as he said, they
died crying, making sour faces, more like children than men.”
This boastful fellow, in the presence of Captain Standish, presented
Canacum with a dagger, which he had obtained from the Weymouth men. He
then addressed him in a long speech, in a language which he knew that
the Captain could not understand, but in a tone and with gestures which
could not but be considered insulting. The purport of this address, as
afterwards interpreted, was as follows:
We have decided to exterminate the weak and starving colony at
Weymouth. We are strong enough to do it any day. But we fear that
the colony at Plymouth will avenge the death of their countrymen. It
is therefore necessary to destroy both colonies. To do this we must
unite our tribes against them. We now come to solicit your aid. The
redoubtable Captain of the Plymouth colony is now with you, with six
of his men. They can all easily be killed. This will make our work
easy.[31]
Canacum was evidently impressed by this speech. He neglected Captain
Standish, and treated his Indian guest with marked distinction. A plot
was formed for the assassination of the whole boat’s crew. The Indians
stood in deadly fear of the muskets of the English, and did not dare
approach the shallop with hostile intent. The Captain did not allow
any armed men to draw near them. The Indians tried to lure them all on
shore, saying that it was too cold for them to sleep in the shallop.
They hoped to fall upon them, in sudden massacre, while asleep in the
huts. With this purpose in their hearts they feigned great friendship,
made presents to Captain Standish, and with alacrity aided in carrying
corn to the shallop. The Captain evaded all their wiles, and a fair
wind soon bore him back again to his friends.
While he was absent, word came to Plymouth that Massasoit was very
dangerously sick, and that his death was daily expected; and also that
a Dutch ship had been driven ashore almost opposite his dwelling. It
was a custom with the Indians that when any chief was sick, all his
friends should hasten to visit him. In observance of this custom, and
also to obtain some intercourse with the Dutch, and hoping also to
secure the friendship of the neighboring sachems, it was decided that
Mr. Winslow and Mr. Hampden, with Hobbomak as a guide, should visit the
dying chief at his home in Paomet.
It was a perilous journey in the then unsettled state of affairs. It
was not known who of the Indians were friendly, and who were hostile.
The death of Massasoit might bring the hostile party into power, and
then there would be hardly a possibility that the two envoys could
escape with their lives. Hobbomak, who had embraced Christianity, and
was apparently a consistent Christian, seemed to be deeply grieved in
view of the death of his chief. He said to Mr. Winslow,
“I shall never see his like again. He was no liar; he was not bloody
and cruel, like other Indians. In anger and passion he was soon
reclaimed. He was easy to be reconciled to those who had offended him.
Ruled by reason, he scorned the advice of mean men, and governed his
people better with few strokes than others did with many. When he is
gone the English will not have a true and faithful friend left among
the Indians.”
Massasoit had two sons, Wamsutta and Pometacom. According to Indian
usage, upon the death of the father, the eldest son inherited the
chieftainship. But it was feared that Corbitant, who had already
manifested hostility, and in whose assumed reconciliation but little
reliance could be placed, would by violence grasp the power, and bring
the whole weight of the tribe against the colonists.
The deputation traveled the first day as far as the little Indian
hamlet of Namasket, which, it will be remembered, occupied the present
site of Middleborough. They passed the night in the wigwam of an
Indian. The next day they continued their journey to Mattapoisit, in
the present town of Swanzey. Here Corbitant resided. The rumor had
already reached them that Massasoit was dead. There were indications
that Corbitant had already taken steps as an usurper, and there were
serious apprehensions that the two defenceless Englishmen would
immediately fall victims to his hostile policy.
The two envoys, however, to avoid all appearance of suspicion, went
directly to Corbitant’s house. The sachem was not at home, but his wife
received them kindly. They sent forward an Indian runner to Paomet,
to bring them back tidings respecting the condition of Massasoit. He
returned with the tidings that the chief was still living when he left,
but was expected every moment to die. They hurried on, and reached
Paomet late at night. In the following terms Mr. Winslow describes his
visit to the dying chief:
“When we came thither we found the house so full of men as we could
scarce get in, though they used their best diligence to make way for
us. There were they in the midst of their charms for him, making such
a hellish noise as it distempered us that were well, and therefore
unlike to ease him that was sick. About him were six or eight women,
who chafed his arms, legs and thighs, to keep heat in him. When they
had made an end of their charming, one told him that his friends, the
English, were come to see him. Having understanding left, but his sight
being wholly gone, he asked who was come. They told him _Winsnow_,
for they cannot pronounce the letter _l_, but ordinarily _n_ in the
place thereof. He desired to speak with me. When I came to him, and
they told him of it, he put forth his hand to me, which I took. Then
he said twice, though very inwardly, _Keen Winsnow_, which is to say,
Art thou Winslow? I answered, _Ah he_, that is, Yes. Then he doubled
these words, _Matta neen wonckanet namen, Winsnow_! that is to say, O
Winslow, I shall never see thee again.”[32]
Mr. Winslow then informed the dying chief, through Hobbomak, that the
Governor was sorry to hear of his sickness, and would have visited
him in person had not important business prevented; that he had
consequently sent Mr. Winslow and Mr. Hampden in his stead, with
such medicines as the English used in case of sickness. Mr. Winslow
administered these medicines, which proved so wonderfully efficacious
that soon his patient quite revived, his sight was restored, and he was
able to take some refreshing broth. All the Indians were surprised and
delighted by the change. Two Indians were sent to Plymouth for more
medicine, and for two chickens for broth. They were dispatched at two
o’clock in the morning, bearing letters informing the Governor of the
success of their mission. Mr. Winslow gives the following account of
his medical practice on this important occasion:
“He requested me that, the day following, I would take my piece and
kill him some fowl, and make him some English pottage, such as he had
eaten at Plymouth. After, his stomach coming, I must needs make him
some without fowl, before I went abroad. This somewhat troubled me,
being unacquainted and unaccustomed in such business, especially having
nothing to make it comfortable, my consort being as ignorant as myself.
But being we must do somewhat, I caused a woman to bruise some corn and
take the flour from it, and set over the broken corn in a pipkin, for
they have earthen pots of all sizes.
“When the day broke we went out, it being now March, to seek herbs,
but could not find any but strawberry leaves, of which I gathered a
handful and put into the same. And because I had nothing to relish it,
I went forth again and pulled up a sassafras root, and sliced a piece
thereof and boiled it till it had a good relish, and then took it out
again. The broth being boiled, I strained it through my handkerchief,
and gave him at least a pint, which he liked very well. After this his
sight mended more and more; and he took some rest, insomuch that we
with admiration blessed God for giving his blessing to such raw and
ignorant means; making no doubt of his recovery, himself and all of
them acknowledging us the instruments of his preservation.”[33]
The grateful chief requested Mr. Winslow to visit all the sick in his
village, and to administer to them the same remedies which had been so
available in his case. With true Christian philanthropy Mr. Winslow
undertook this task, finding it needful to perform many revolting
offices, from which he did not shrink. With the utmost tenderness he
watched the fluctuations of the disease of the king, and administered
remedies apparently with much intuitive skill. Having succeeded in
shooting a duck, just before the men returned with the pigeons,
Massasoit decided to preserve them alive for breed. His recovery
excited so much astonishment that many persons came a hundred miles
to see him. Great efforts had been made by the hostile Indians to
prejudice him against the English, and to induce him to join their
coalition.
“Now I see,” he said, “that the English are my friends, and love me.
And whilst I live I will never forget this kindness they have showed
me. They have been more kind to me than any others have been.”
As Mr. Winslow was leaving, Massasoit called Hobbomak privately to him,
one or two of his warriors only being present, and informed him in full
of the plot of the Massachusetts Indians to destroy the Weston colony,
and then to attack that at Plymouth. He mentioned seven tribes who were
united with them in the coalition, among others mentioning some who
were making loud professions of friendship. He said that he had been
earnestly solicited to join them, but that he would not do so, neither
would he allow any of the tribes under his sway to make any hostile
movement.
Massasoit advised the pilgrims, through Hobbomak, that if they would
save the lives of their countrymen, they should immediately put to
death the leading men of the Massachusetts tribes who were organizing
this formidable conspiracy. “Say to them,” said he, “that they often
say that they will never strike the first blow. But if they wait until
their countrymen at Weymouth are killed, who are entirely unable to
defend themselves, it will then be too late for them to protect their
own lives. I therefore advise them, without any delay, to put the
leaders of this plot to death. Communicate what I say to you to Mr.
Winslow, on your way home, that he may relate the same to Governor
Bradford.”
Very affectionately the two parties took leave of each other. The
envoys were disappointed in not meeting the Dutch; but the day before
their arrival, a high tide enabled them to move the ship from the
shoals, upon which it had been stranded, and they had proceeded on
their voyage. The Pilgrims called upon Corbitant on their return,
and passed the night with him. He received them with great apparent
cordiality. Mr. Winslow gives the following pleasing account of the
visit.
“I had much confidence with him; he being a notable politician, yet
full of merry jests and quibs, and never better pleased than when the
like are returned upon him. Among other things he asked me, if in case
he were thus dangerously sick, as Massasoit had been, and should send
word thereof to Plymouth for medicine, whether the Governor would send
it; and if he would, whether I would come therewith to him. To both
which I answered, yea; whereat he gave me joyful thanks.
“After that, he demanded further how we durst, being but two, come so
far into the country. I answered, where was true love there was no
fear; and my heart was so upright towards them that, for my own part, I
was fearless to come amongst them.
“‘But,’ said he, ‘if your love be such, and it bring forth such fruits,
how cometh it to pass that when we come to Plymouth, you stand upon
your guard, with the mouths of your pieces presented towards us.’
“Whereupon I answered it was the most honorable and respective
entertainment we could give them, it being an order amongst us so to
receive our best respected friends. And as it was used on the land, so
the ships also observed it at sea, which Hobbomak knew and had seen
observed. But, shaking his head, he answered that he liked not such
salutations.”
Noticing that Mr. Winslow asked a blessing upon his food, and
returned thanks after partaking of it, he asked him the meaning of
the custom. He listened very attentively to Mr. Winslow’s account of
the ten commandments and of the Christian religion, and expressed his
cordial approval of nearly all. The next day the Pilgrims continued
their journey, and lodged that night at Middleborough. The next day,
when they had reached about half way home, they met two Indians, who
informed them that Captain Standish had that morning set sail for
Massachusetts, but that contrary winds had driven him back. Upon their
arrival, they found Captain Standish waiting for a fair wind to resume
his voyage.
It was the latter part of February. The news from the Weston colony
was continually becoming more disastrous. These wretched adventurers
were sinking into degradation almost beneath that of the savages.
John Sanders had taken the Swan, and, with a small crew, had sailed
for the coast of Maine, hoping to obtain some food from the fishermen
there. The religionless rabble, left behind, sold their clothes and
bed coverings for food. They became servants to the insolent Indians,
cutting wood and bringing water to them for a cup full of corn. They
stole, night and day, from the Indians. Several died from cold and
hunger. One man was digging clams. He got stuck in the mud, and was so
weak that he could not extricate himself, and miserably perished. They
scattered, wandering about in search of ground nuts and shell-fish, and
became utterly despicable, even in the eyes of the savages.
“They became contemned and scorned by the Indians,” writes Governor
Bradford, “and they began greatly to insult over them in the most
insolent manner; insomuch, many times, as they lay thus scattered
abroad, and had set on a pot with ground nuts or shell-fish, when it
was ready, the Indians would come and eat it up. And when night came,
whereas some of them had a sorry blanket or such like to lap themselves
in, the Indians would take it, and let the others lie all night in the
cold; so as their condition was very lamentable. Yea, in the end they
were fain to hang one of their men, whom they could not reclaim from
stealing, to give the Indians content.”[34]
A waggish report was circulated, with which Hudibras makes himself
merry, that, the thief being a man of some importance, who could not
well be spared, a poor decrepit old man, who was utterly unserviceable,
was hung in his stead. There was no truth in this report. And it was
still more atrocious, as a calumny, when attributed to the Pilgrims. It
cannot be denied, however, that the deed would have been in character
with the conduct of the Weymouth miscreants. They were not Puritans.
There is no evidence that they had any church, any divine worship, or
any religion.
The state of the Weston colony caused much anxiety at Plymouth. The
savages were learning to despise the English. It was necessary to take
some very decisive action, and yet it was difficult to determine what
that action should be. Captain Standish’s voyage was delayed, to wait
for further developments, and many consultations were held. At length,
on the 23d of March, the Governor assembled the whole company of the
Pilgrims in general council, and, expressing the deepest regret that
it seemed to be necessary to resort to warlike measure against those
whose good only they sought to promote, proposed that Captain Standish
should take so many well-armed men as he judged to be necessary, and,
assailing the Indians with the same weapons of guile which they were
persistently using, should go to Massachusetts as if for trade with
the Indians. On the way he was to visit Weymouth and inform the people
there of the plot which was formed against them, and of the object of
his coming, and to invite them to embark on board the Swan, and come to
Plymouth for protection. He was then to visit the Indians, carefully
scrutinize their conduct, and adopt such measures to thwart their plans
and punish their ringleaders as in his judgment might seem expedient.
He was particularly requested to bring back with him, as a warning to
all the savages, the head of that bold and bloody villain Wituwamat, of
whom we have before spoken, who was loud and boastful in his threats,
and undisguised in his measures to array all the Indians against the
English.
Captain Standish took eight men only, selecting those in whose courage
and discretion he could repose perfect reliance. The day before he
was to sail, a man by the name of Phineas Pratt came from Weymouth,
through the woods, with his pack upon his back. He brought a deplorable
report of the degradation and helplessness of the colonists. They
were dispersed in three companies in search of food, and were almost
destitute of powder and shot. He had fled from the impending ruin, and
begged permission to remain at Plymouth.
The next day the wind was fair, and Captain Standish set sail on his
difficult and perilous expedition. They entered the harbor at Weymouth,
and proceeded first to the Swan, which was at anchor there, “but
neither man, or so much as a dog therein.” The discharge of a musket
attracted the attention of the master of the vessel, who was on shore,
with some of the colonists, searching for ground nuts. Upon Captain
Standish reproaching them with their carelessness in leaving a vessel
so important to their safety thus exposed, they replied, like men
bereft of reason, that they had no fear of the Indians. The Captain
gathered around him as many of the colonists as he could, and informed
them of the plot already ripe for their massacre. He then gave them
the invitation, on the part of the Governor and all the colonists,
to repair to Plymouth, where they would share their scanty food with
them until some better plan for their welfare could be devised. A more
heroic act of hospitality than this the world has seldom witnessed. He
also added that if there were any other plan which they preferred to
adopt, he would do everything in his power to aid them in it.
These wretched men gladly accepted the generous offer which rescued
them from the tomahawk of the savage, and decided at once to abandon
the colony. Captain Standish then enjoined upon them the most entire
secrecy in respect to their contemplated movement. The stragglers were
all to be immediately called in, and ordered not to leave the town
under penalty of death. A pint of corn was allotted to them each day,
though this had to be taken from the store which the Pilgrims had
reserved for planting.
The weather was cold, wet and stormy, and thus Captain Standish was
much delayed in his operations. The Indians, hearing of the arrival of
the shallop from Plymouth, sent a spy to Weymouth, ostensibly to sell
some furs. Though the Captain treated him with the customary courtesy,
the sagacious savage returned with the report that “he saw, by his
eyes, that he was angry in his heart.” But the Indians had become so
emboldened that they hesitated not to use any language of insolence and
menace. One of the vilest of them, a fellow of gigantic stature, by the
name of Pecksuot, with Wituwamat and his brother, came swaggering into
the little village. “Tell your Captain,” said he, “that we know that he
has come to kill us. But we do not fear him. Let him begin as soon as
he dares. We are ready for him.”
These three men, with another Indian, followed by quite a mob of the
savages, entered one of the houses, where Captain Standish was with
four of the Pilgrims. The object, evidently, was to provoke a quarrel,
and murder the Englishman. Captain Standish was a slender man, of
small stature. Pecksuot was almost a giant. The savage approached him,
whetting his knife, and boasting of his power to lay the “little man”
low. The other Indians were equally insulting and threatening, with
both word and gesture. The Captain, perfectly preserving his calmness
and self-possession, ordered the door to be shut and fastened, that no
other Indians could come in. Then, giving the signal to the others of
his men, he sprang, with the wonderful strength and agility for which
he was celebrated, upon the burly savage, wrenched the knife, which was
sharp as a needle at the point, from his hand, and after a desperate
conflict, in which he inflicted many wounds, succeeded in plunging it
to the hilt in the bosom of his foe. In like manner Wituwamat and the
other Indian, after the fiercest struggle, during which not a word was
uttered, were killed. Wituwamat’s brother, a boastful, blood-thirsty
villain of eighteen, was taken and hanged, for conspiring for the
massacre of the English.
The Indians around the house, appalled by so unexpected an exhibition
of courage and power, fled into the wilderness. Captain Standish
marshalled his whole force to pursue. The Indians rallied in an
advantageous position, and made a brief stand. But, three of their
number falling before the bullets of the Englishmen, they again turned,
and on swift foot disappeared.
The Weymouth men, aware of their danger of suffering from hunger in
Plymouth, decided to embark in the Swan for the fishing fleet on the
coast, hoping there to obtain provisions to enable them to return
to England. It was probably an acceptable decision to the Captain.
Retaining simply corn enough for his homeward trip, he gave all the
rest he had with him to them. A few decided to go to Plymouth, whom the
Captain took with him. Having seen the Swan set sail, and fairly clear
of Massachusetts Bay, the conquering hero spread his sail, and was soon
greeted by his friends for his success in his chivalric adventure. Thus
the godless colony at Weymouth came to an ignoble end.