The record of those winter months is very brief, for Roger Williams had no idea he was making history. But suppose we let him tell the story in his own words:
“When I was unkindly and un-Christianly, as I believe, driven from my house and land and wife and children, (in the midst of a New England winter, now about thirty-five years past,) at Salem, that ever-honored Governor, Mr. Winthrop, privately wrote to me to steer my course to Narragansett Bay and Indians, for many high and heavenly and public ends encouraging me, from the freeness of the place from any English claims or patents. I took his prudent motion as a hint and voice from God, and waiving all other thoughts and motions, I steered my course from Salem (though in winter snow, which I feel yet) unto these parts, wherein I may say Peniel, that is, I have seen the face of God.”
The first place which the wanderer decided upon as a good location for a new home was a spot on the east bank of the Seekonk River. The land, while included in Plymouth territory, was obtained from Massasoit, the Wampanoag sachem, whom Roger Williams considered the true owner. It seemed a favorable stopping-place. Here, during the mild spring days, Roger Williams alternately tended his garden and worked upon his rude dwelling, all the time dreaming of the day when his good wife and babies in Salem should join him.
Alas! his plans for a permanent home here were never to be realized. No sooner were things well started when he received a friendly hint from Governor Winslow that if he wished to avoid further trouble, it would be well for him to choose another home site.
“I first pitched and began to build at Seekonk, now Rehoboth, but I received a letter from my ancient friend, Mr. Winslow, then Governor of Plymouth, professing his own and others’ love and respect to me, yet lovingly advising me, since I was fallen into the edge of their bounds, and they were loath to displease the Bay, to remove but to the other side of the water, and then, he said, I had the country free before me, and might be as free as themselves, and we should be loving neighbors together.”
Discouraging news, indeed! Was there never to be peace or rest for the banished one?
“And surely, between those, my friends of the Bay and Plymouth, I was sorely tossed for one fourteen weeks, in a bitter winter season, not knowing what bread or bed did mean, beside the yearly loss of no small matter in my trading with English and natives, being debarred from Boston, the chief mart and port of New England. God knows that many thousand pounds cannot repay the losses I have sustained.”
With his face again set toward some new, unknown home, Roger Williams began reconnoitering. By this time (probably June, 1636), he had been joined by a fifth refugee from Salem, Joshua Verin—perhaps several others. One day, embarking in a canoe, Roger Williams sailed down the Seekonk River and crossed to the opposite shore. The story is told that at a jagged point, later called Slate Rock, the Indians came down to the water’s edge and greeted him with the friendly cry, “What cheer, Netop?” or, in other words, “How do you do, friend?” Kindly words, even though they came from the lips of savages! Best of all, the voyager was not asked to “move on.” Was it not a good omen that in his search for a permanent home, he should be greeted first of all by the Indians with whom he had labored so faithfully and lovingly?
Whatcheer Field, in the vicinity of the rock, became the property of Roger Williams and was used by him for planting. The historic rock itself is now hidden underground back from the shore, but the spot has been marked by a monument dedicated “to the memory of Roger Williams, the Apostle of Soul Liberty.” The story of the meeting of the red men and their white friend has been further preserved in the form of the city seal of Providence.
