“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.