It is a clear moonlight night. Sheltered by huge rocks on the shore of the Mystic sleeps the little invading army, ** while the unsuspecting Pequots in their fort near by are dancing and singing, filled with joy, because they have seen the pinnaces of the English sail by without stopping to do them harm, and believe that the Pale-faces dare not come nigh them. Little do they think that the tiger is already crouching to spring upon his prey! On that high hill, upon the right, is the Pequot fort. *** It is early dawn, and the little army June 5, 1637is pressing on silently up the wooded slope. The Narragansets and Niantics, seized with fear, are lagging, while the eager English and Mohegans rush up to the attack. **** All but a sentinel are in a deep sleep. Too late he cries, "Owanux! Owanux!" "Englishmen! Englishmen!" The mounds are scaled; the entrance is forced; the palisades are
* Uncas was of the royal blood of the Pequots, and a petty sachem under Sassacus. When the English first settled in Connecticut, he was in open rebellion against his prince. To save himself and be revenged on his adversary, he sought and obtained the alliance of the English, and when the Pequot nation was destroyed, Uncas became the powerful chief of that tribe of Pequots called the Mohegans, from the circumstance of their inhabiting the place called Mohegan, now Norwich. The Pequot country comprised the present towns of Waterford, New London, and Montville, on the west side of the Thames, and Groton, Stonington, and North Stonington, on the east of that river. Windham, and a part of Tolland county, on the north, was the Mohegan country.
** These are called Porter's Rocks, and are situated near Portersville, on the west side of the Mystic. They are on the shore, about half a mile south of the residence of Daniel Eldridge.—See Barber's Hist. Coll, of Conn., p. 313.
*** This hill, eight miles northeast from New London, is known at the present day by the name of Pequot Hill. It is a spot of much interest, aside from the commanding view obtained from its summit, as the place where the first regular conflict between the English and the natives of New England took place. Such was the terror which this event infused into the minds of the Indian tribes, that for nearly forty years they refrained from open war with the whites, and the colonies prospered.
**** Sassacus was the terror of the New England coast tribes. A belief that he was in the fort on Pequol Hill was the cause of the fear which seized the Narragansets. "Sassacus is in the fort! Sassacus is all one god!" said Miantonômoh; "nobody can kill him."
Destruction of the Fort.—Terrible Massacre.—Departure of the English.—Another Invasion.—Destruction of the Pequots.
broken down; the mattings of the wigwams and the dry bushes and logs of the fort are set on fire, and seven hundred men, women, and children, perish in the flames or by the sword! It is a dreadful sight, this slaughter of the strong, the beautiful, and the innocent; and yet, hear the commander of the assailants impiously exclaiming, "God is above us! He laughs his enemies and the enemies of the English to scorn, making them as a fiery oven. Thus does the Lord judge among the heathen, filling the place with dead bodies!" *
From the other fort near the Pequot (Thames), where dwells Sassacus, three hundred warriors approach with horrid yells and bent bows. But the English are too skillful, and too strongly armed with pike, and gun, and metal corselet, for those bare-limbed warriors, and they are scattered like chaff by the whirlwind of destruction. The English make their way to Groton; and yonder, just in time to receive them, before the remnant of the Pequots can rally and fall upon them, come their vessels around the remote headland. With a fair breeze, many of the English sail for Saybrook, making the air vocal with hymns of praise and thanksgiving. Others, with the Narragansets, march through the wilderness to the Connecticut River, and then, in happy reunion, warriors, soldiers, ministers, and magistrates join in a festival of triumph! **
Stately and sullen sits Sassacus in his wigwam on yonder hill, as the remnant of his warriors gather around him and relate the sad fortunes of the day. They charge the whole terrible event to his haughtiness and misconduct, and tearing their hair, and stamping on the ground, menace him and his with destruction. But hark! the blast of a trumpet startles them; from the head waters of the Mystic come two hundred armed settlers from Massachusetts and Plymouth to seal the doom of the Pequots. Despair takes possession of Sassacus and his followers, and burning their wigwams and destroying their fort, they flee across the Pequot River westward, pursued by the English. What terrible destruction is wrought by the new invaders! Throughout the beautiful country bordering on the Sound wigwams and corn-fields are destroyed, and helpless men, women, and children are put to the sword. With Sassacus at their head, the doomed Pequots fly like deer pursued by hounds, and take shelter in Sasco Swamp, near Fairfield, where they all surrender to the English, except the chief and a few men who escape to the Mohawks. The final blow is struck which annihilated the once powerful Pequots, and the great Sassacus, the last of his royal race in power except Uncas, falls by the hand of an assassin, among the people who opened their protecting arms to receive him. ***
The dark vision of cruelty melts away; smiling fields, and laden orchards, and busy towns, the products of a more enlightened and peaceful Christianity than that of two centuries back, are around me. Russet corn-fields cover the hill—the royal seat of Sassacus—and in the bright harbor where the little English pinnaces, filled with bloody men, were just an-