The site of this ancient Maliseet town is a fine plateau extending back from the river about fifty rods, then descending to a lower interval, twenty rods wide, and again rising quite abruptly sixty or seventy feet to the upland. The spring freshet usually covers the lower interval and the elevated plateau then becomes an island. The spot is an exceedingly interesting one, but, unfortunately for the investigator, the soil has been so well cultivated by the hands of thrifty farmers that little remains to indicate the outlines of the old fortifications. It is impossible to determine with absolute certainty the position of the stockade, or of the large wigwam, or council chamber, and other features commonly found in Indian towns of that period. The only place where the old breast-work is visible is along the south and east sides of the burial ground, where it is about two feet high. The burial ground has never been disturbed with the plough, the owners of the property having shown a proper regard for the spot as the resting place of the dead. It is, however, so thickly overgrown with hawthorn as to be a perfect jungle difficult to penetrate. Many holes have been dug there by relic hunters and seekers of buried treasure.
At the spot marked A* on the plan, between the grave-yard and the river, there is a mass of ashes and cinders with numberless bones scattered about. This is believed to be the site of the old council fire. Here the visitor will find himself in touch with the events of savage life of centuries ago. Here it was Governor Villebon harangued his dusky allies; here the horrible dog feast was held and the hatchet brandished by the warriors on the eve of their departure to deluge with blood the homes of New England; here at the stake the luckless captive yielded up his life and chanted his death-song; here the Sieur de Clignancourt bargained with the Indians, receiving their furs and peltry and giving in exchange French goods and trinkets, rum and brandy; here good Father Simon taught the savages the elements of the Christian faith and tamed as best he could the fierceness of their manners; here too when weary of fighting the hatchet was buried and the council fire glowed its brightest as the chiefs smoked their calumet of peace.
Some have supposed the old Medoctec fort to have been quite an elaborate structure, with bastions, etc., but it was more probably only a rude Indian fortification with ditch and parapet surmounted by a stockade, within which was a strongly built cabin, in size about thirty by forty feet. Parkman in his “Jesuits in North America,” gives a good description of similar forts built by the Hurons and other tribes of Canada. The labor originally involved in the erection of the palisade must have been very great, and nothing but stern necessity is likely to have driven so naturally improvident a people to undertake it. The stout stakes were cut, pointed and firmly planted with no better implement than the stone axe of prehistoric times.
In the lower right hand corner of the plan will be found the spring referred to in the opening chapter[15] as the scene of the ludicrous Mohawk scare. Its distance from the old fort is about half a mile, and the situation and surroundings correspond so exactly with Gyles’ description that there is not the slightest doubt as to its identity. The water that flows from it never fails and is very clear and cool.
At the back of the lower interval is a curious gully, something like a broad natural roadway, which affords an easy ascent to the upland. This no doubt was the commencement of the famous portage by which bands of savages in ancient days took their way westward to devastate the settlements of eastern New England.
The small stream which enters the St. John a little above the old village site is known as Hay’s Creek, but in some of the early maps and land grants is called “Meductic river.” About a mile from its mouth there is a very beautiful cascade; the volume of water is not large but the height of the fall, 95 feet perpendicular, is remarkable, surpassing by at least ten feet the Grand Falls of the River St. John.
Our knowledge of the village Medoctec, and the ways of its people two centuries ago, is derived mainly from the narrative of John Gyles, the English lad who was captured at Pemaquid in 1689 and brought by his Indian master to the River St. John. At the time of his capture Gyles was a boy of about twelve years of age. He seems to have met with kindly treatment from his master though not from all the Indians. His first rude experience was at Penobscot fort where upon the arrival of the captives, some fifty in number, the squaws got together in a circle dancing and yelling, as was their custom on such occasions. Gyles says, “An old grimace squaw took me by the hand and leading me into the ring, some seized me by my hair and others by my feet, like so many furies; but, my master laying down a pledge, they released me. A captive among the Indians is exposed to all manner of abuses and to the extremest tortures, unless their master, or some of their master’s relatives lay down a ransom, such as a bag of corn, a blanket, or the like, which redeems them from their cruelty for that dance.”
After a long and wearisome journey the little captive at length neared his destination, the canoes were paddling down the Madawamkeetook (or Eel) river. When they reached the rapids they landed, and we shall let Gyles tell in his own words the story of the last stage of his journey and of his reception at Medoctec. He says: “We carried over a long carrying place to Medoctock Fort, which stands on a bank of St. John’s river. My Indian master went before and left me with an old Indian 69 and three squaws. The old man often said (which was all the English he could speak), ‘By and by come to a great Town and Fort.’ So I comforted myself in thinking how finely I should be refreshed when I came to this great town.
“After some miles travel we came in sight of a large Corn-field and soon after of the Fort, to my great surprise; for two or three squaws met us, took off my pack, and led me to a large hut or wigwam, where thirty or forty Indians were dancing and yelling round five or six poor captives. * * I was whirled in among them and we looked at each other with a sorrowful countenance; and presently one of them was seized by each hand and foot by four Indians, who swung him up and let his back with force fall on the hard ground, till they had danced (as they call it) round the whole wigwam, which was thirty or forty feet in length. * *