Thirteen logs were fitted out in this way, representing the Sergeant and his twelve men. They then placed themselves, with loaded guns, behind the fallen tree; by this time it was dark, but the fire was kept burning till midnight. The Sergeant knew, that if the Savages ever came, they would come now.
A tall Indian was seen, at length, through the glimmering of the fire, which was getting low. He moved cautiously towards them, skulking, as an Indian always does. He seemed to suspect, at first, that a guard might be watching, but seeing none, he came forward more boldly, rested on his toes, and was seen to move his finger, as he counted the thirteen men, sleeping, as he supposed, by the fire. He counted them again, and retired; another came up, and did the same. Then the whole party, sixteen in number, came up and glared silently at the logs, till they seemed to be satisfied they were fast asleep. Presently they took aim, fired their whole number of guns upon the logs, yelled the horrid war-whoop, and pushed forward to murder and scalp their supposed victims. The Sergeant and his men were ready for them; they fired upon them, and not one of the Indians was left to tell the story of that night. The Sergeant reached the army in safety.
SCENES IN KING WILLIAM’S WAR, 1689.
SURPRISE OF DOVER.
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 handfuls 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.