USA > Connecticut > Fairfield County > Stamford > History of Stamford, Connecticut : from its settlement in 1641, to the present time, including Darien, which was one of its parishes until 1820 > Part 9
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the West, the fierce Mohawks, than -against the more harmless pale faces, who were quietly locating themselves here and there upon the hunting grounds of their race.
Still the red man could not be expected to sec himself steadily alienating the ancestral possessions of his race, steadily wasting away before the increasing colonies of a people whom he tho- ronghly despised, without some struggling against so humilia- ting a destiny. Accordingly, the period of colonial settlements throughout New England, was also a period of constant collision between the immigrant and the aboriginal races. The very year in which our pioneers were taking possession of Rippowann, was marked by one of those combinations of Indian strategy, whose aim was the forcible expulsion from Connecticut soil of the last pale face to be found.
The plot disclosed by a neighboring Sachem to Mr. Ludlow, of Uncowa, (Fairfield), and by a Long Island Indian, to Mr. Eaton, of New Haven, and by still another native on the Con- necticut, warned the few colonies in time to avert the threatened doom. While a portion of the Stamford settlers are on their way to their new home, the General Court of Connecticut find themselves called upon to issue the following orders :
" It is Ordered, that there shall be a letter writ fro the Courte to the Bay to further the prsecution of the Indeans, to pr'uent their mischevus plotte in their late Combination."
"It is Ordered that there shall be a gard of 40 men to com compleate in their Arms to the meeting every Sabbath and lecture day, in every Towne within these liberties vppon the River."
The combination referred to in these orders was the last for- midable attempt of the great Miantonomo of the Narragansetts ; Sequassen, the patriot Sachem of the Connecticut River ; and the jealous and revengeful Sequin, to save their name and posses- sions from the sudden extinction which they foresaw.
In the same year, so imminent had the danger become, that the Court interdicted all traffic with the Indians except by permission of two magistrates ; no smith was to work for an
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Indian; two wardsmen were to be appointed in every town within their jurisdiction to give notice of any sudden danger that may come upon the plantations ; a competent number of men should remain in every town daily for its defense ; and " 90 coats should be provided within ten days, basted with cotton wool and made defensive against Indian arrowes."
It was in the midst of such alarms that Stamford was settled ; and we may be assured that it required no little nerve to attempt, and no ordinary prudence and courage to effect the settlement.
In the territory itself were traces of at least four distinct clans. On the west side of the purchase, with his seat not far from where the line now separates the town from Greenwich, was the bold and warlike Mayano, with his vindictive band of warriors, already experienced in the conflict, both with savage and civi- lized foes. Whence they had come, or how many they might count, we shall never know; we shall soon see that they or our sturdy pioneers must ere long maintain the possession by the stout heart and arm.
Further to the East, with his princely residence overlooking both the bays which inclose our finest headland, was Wascussuc, Lord of Shipan. Not as spirited as Mayano, he seemed to linger with a handful of his tribe, in a sort of princely repose upon the fair field which his more youthful arm had won, unwilling to leave the charming heritage which in his sadness he saw now for the first time seriously invaded.
Still farther towards the rising sun and beyond the lovely Noroton bay, was the empire of Piamikin, whose deed of aliena- tion makes him Sagamore of Roatan, and whose jealous eye guarded the hunting and fishing grounds, as after him our . Stamford colony did, out to the waters of the babbling Rowal- ton, (Five Mile River.)
On the north of these sea-washed realms, lay the more extended realins of Ponus. From his ancestors he had received the wooded hills and brook-washed vales that stretch far away to the north until they are lost in the forests which even the red
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men did not claim-a wild border ground between the eastern and the western tribes ; and he hoped to hand them all over to his idol, Powahay, the bright faced son of his first-born Onax. But the old patriarch of his wasting tribe, saw his warriors fade and perish as if touched with the power of his own decay, and he yielded gracefully to the stern necessity. He lived to sign with his own hand the deed which forever alienated from him- self and heirs, " all the uplands, meadows and grass, with the rivers and trees," that had once been his rejoicing and his pride.
These four clans, under these leaders, with perhaps a few fugitives from other scattered tribes, temporarily living here in their isolated independency, constituted the only aborigines within the limits of Stamford, with whom the new colony had to contend. Occasionally other tribes would sweep across the town and leave in their track of terror some witness to their ferocity. Single Indians would now and then steal in upon the unsuspecting settlers and startle them with some threatened or accomplished revenge.
While the second company of the colony were locating them- selves, a tragedy was enacted, a little to the west of the town, which for a while threatened the very existence of the new community. Some of the Dutch traders had stripped an Indian who had been tempted by them to drink too much, of a valuable dress of beaver skins. On recovering from his drunk- en fit, the insulted red man revenged himself by killing two Dutehmen, and fled to feast his memory with the great revenge among a distant tribe. He could not be found. The Dutch governor at New Amsterdam, Kieft, sought an opportunity to punish the Indians for the revengeful deed. The next winter the Mohawks fell upon two of the Hudson river tribes, and after killing their warriors, scattered the remnant in utter des- titution to find food and shelter from the piercing cold among the Dutch on the South. The time for a civilized revenge had now come; and at the instigation of Kieft, with the sanction of his counselors, more than a hundred of those helpless fugitives
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from their savage foe, were sent from their quiet sleep on earth to the spirit world of their race, by a blow from the Dutch soldiers, so sudden that they could not even beg for life.
Then Indian blood was stirred. Savage vengeance awoke. With almost electric despatch, Indian warrior pledged to Indian warrior, and clan to clan, the direst vengeance on their foe. " More than fifteen hundred warriors," according to De Forest, rallied from the confederacy of eleven clans, to constitute this avenging army. " A fierce war blazed wherever a Dutch set- tlement was to be found; on Long Island and on Manhattan, along the Connecticut aud along the Hudson." From Manhat- tan to Stamford the coast was desolated, Dutch and English alike, atoning to the inexorable spirit of Indian revenge, for the needless injuries that had been heaped upon the Indian's race.
The white race were in the ascendant. Their arms were more than a match for the red man's muscle; their science triumphed over his cunning ; and the desperate Indian had only the fiendish pleasure of dealing in his death struggles, now and then, an avenging blow.
Within hearing distance of the Stamford settlement* were three Dutch settlers who had excited the wrath of the restless and brave Mayano. He nobly met them, armed as they were, with his bow and arrows and brought two of them to the ground. The third only saved himself by a well-directed blow which laid the fearless savage at his feet ; and the daring of the fallen Sachem had made the extermination of his tribe a neces- sity to the safety of the whites. A company of soldiers were immediately dispatched to capture them. At Greenwich they were directed by Capt. Patrick to the rendezvous of the mad- dened Indians, but on reaching it not a soul could be found. Proceeding on into the Stamford settlement they find Patrick with his own former comrade in arms, our Captain John Under- hill. They immediate suspect him of having given the Indians notice of their approach. They taunt him with the treachery.
*Between Greenwich and Stamford. - O'Callaghan.
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He who had led his trusty men so successfully against the bravest of the New England savages, could not brook such insolence from Dutchmen, even though in arms. He contempt- uously spat in the face of their leader and turned to walk away. A pistol ball brought him to the ground in death, and the Dutchmen returned to the pursuit of their savage foe.
Underhill, who had been no friend to the Dute' settlers, now sympathized with their mortal hatred of the Indian enemy. He had already signalized his bravery in the Pequod war. His was already a name of terror to Indians far and near; and to his presence our Stamford colony had doubtless owed their comparative exemption thus far from savage invasions. It was no time for him to rest inactive when his friends and neighbors were exposed every hour to some sudden and relentless massa- cre. He offered his services to the Dutch governor, and was at once sent into the field. The troublesome Indians about Stamford were the first to feel his power. With one hundred and thirty men he started from New Amsterdam, on a cold and cloudy morning in the February of 1644. They were able to land at Greenwich Point, that evening, in a furious storm. With the early dawn of the next morning the resolute Captain was again on the march. All day did the sturdy Dutch sol- diers, under their valiant leader, plod their toilsome way through the snow, until, at eight in the evening, they had reached the vicinity of the hostile camp. Soon the clouds gave way, and a clear, bright moon, flashing from the snowy crystals, lighted their way to their horrid work. By a little after ten they filed round the Southern spur of a ridge, stretching toward the Northwest, and the village, a tripple range of wig- wams, lay reposing before them, awaiting their attack. With marvelous celerity, the captain cireles the doomed village with his trusty men. Now spring upon them, as honnds un- leashed upon their prey, the stalwart forms of more than a hundred warriors, all prepared for their death grapple with the foe. But neither their sudden rush, nor their wild war-cry,
14
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could intimidate their assailants. Coolly they are received, a tenth of them captured, and the rest impetuously hurled back. For a whole hour the unrelenting struggle went on. A hundred and thirty men wrestled in mortal strife with more than five hundred of the enemy, and when the doomed Indians were at length driven back within their lines of defense, one hundred and eighty of their fallen comrades were already still and stiff- ening in the blood stained snow. Nor would they yet raise the flag of truce, or cry for quarter. Each undaunted spirit, left beneath such shelter as his own or his neighbor's wigwam could give, continued the fight. This was the opportunity for which Underhill was prepared. He called for fire. Torches lighted the wigwams. Indian men, women, and children, issuing from their burning homes, were driven back to perish in the flames. Before the morning dawned, more than five hundred, who, the night before, had gone to their usual rest, were now sleeping their last sleep with the unconscious dead.
By noon, of the next day, the victors had already reached Stamford, on their way home, having in this signal chastisement of the Indians of this neighborhood, secured the perpetual peace of the English settlements. From this time there would be no gathering of clans and tribes against the now victorious white race. Occasional depredations and stealthy and assassin stabs, now and then, from some treacherous or revengeful red man, would be the only further harm the colonists in this vicinity would have to fear.
Not long was it before an illustration was given of the sav- age revenge which burned among the neighboring Indians. Just to the north of the village, a family by the name of Phelps had just located themselves. The husband had left the house one morning, in the fall of 1644, leaving his wife, with an infant child at home. An Indian, who had already made himself somewhat notorious for his hatred of the English, had seen the husband leave, and knew the defenseless condition of his fam- ily. He gloried in such an opportunity for vengeance. Enter-
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ing the house, he took up a hatchet lying upon the floor, and when the mother bent herself, as a sheltering angel over her defenseless babe, he savagely buried it in her brain. After plun- dering the house he left.
Again the settlers were aroused. They felt that there was no safety for them. They rallied in large numbers to search for the Indian. They sent messengers to New Haven and Hartford for assistance; and were determined to avenge the deed so signally as to hinder the repetition of it among them. Meanwhile, Mrs. Phelps, who survived the blow which the Indian thought to be fatal, rallied so far as to enable her to describe the assassin. He was at once recognized. His tribe were at length prevailed on to give him up. He was taken to New Haven for trial, and sentenced to death by decapitation. Now, Busheag, the convicted savage, showed the fearlessness and more than stoic endurance of his Indian heart. He showed no sign of concern for himself, none of sorrow for his deed. He asked no pardon, he simulated no regret. He promised no sup- pression of his hate or his vengeance. He looked his execu- tioner sternly in the face, as he unflinchingly received the repeated blows which severed his head from his body.
The execution of Busheag, following so soon the signal over- throw of the Indians to the west of the town, rendered the sur- viving Indians more cautious and peaceful. They made a for- mal treaty of peace with the English, and pledged a due ob- servance of every usage of good neighborhood. They who could not endure the humiliation stole away, some of them to live for a while among the Ridgefield Indians, to the north, and others penetrated still further into the unbroken, wilderness of the west.
During this period the utmost caution was used among the settlers, to avoid exciting or provoking the Indians. No man was allowed to furnish intoxicating liquors to them, under heavy penalty. And in 1648, at the Stamford court, it was also ordered "yt non shall ether sell or give any of our English doggs unto ye Indians at ye displeasure of ye courte."
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Yet no forbearance or caution on the part of the intruders upon these Indian domains, could long secure their immunity from Indian revenge. The Indian felt that he and his race were losing ground; and it is not to be wondered at, that his hitherto unbroken spirit should rouse his utmost endeavors to regain it.
In the autumn of 1649, a new tragedy was enacted in Stam- ford. John Whitmore, one of the most respectable of the set- tlers, who had already won a good name here, left his house one morning to look for his cattle in the common grounds to the west of the village. He never returned. The utmost ex- citement prevailed throughout the settlement. The most dili- gent search brought no clue to the discovery of the body. Messengers were sent in every direction. Help was summoned from New Haven and Hartford, but the search and help were of no avail.
The perplexity and apprehension occasioned by this myste- rious disappearance were very extensive. The general court at Hartford made it an occasion of serions deliberation. They felt that none of the colonists, in any of the Connecticut settle- ments, would be secure, if such surprises were to be possible. They enter on their record this minute, as expressive of their convictions of what was due themselves in the perilous crisis :
"This courte, taking into serious consideration what may bee done according to God in way of revenge of the blood of John Whitmore, late of Stamford, and well weighing all circumstan- ces, together with the carriages of the Indians (bordering there- vppon,) in and about the premises : doe declare themselves that they doe judge it lawfull and according to God to make war vppon them. This courte desires Mr. Deputy, Mr. Ludlow and Mr. Tayle- coat to ride to-morrow to New Haven and conferr with Mr. Eaton and the rest of the magistrates there about sending out against the Indians, and to make returne of their apprehensions with what convenient spced they may."
Meanwhile the search for the body of Mr. Whitmore was going on. By a providential arrangement, Uncas, the great Mohegan, who for years had now been the politie friend of the
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whites, was now, with a band of his clear-sighted warriors, in this vicinity. So unusual was such a visitation, as to leave the impression that his main object in the expedition was to aid the Stamford men in their search. To this he might easily have been induced by the Connecticut colony ; and to this he set himself earnestly and successfully to work.
As, nominally at least, sachem over the tribe whose limits had once embraced all this territory, he spoke with some show of authority. Assembling the neighboring Indians, he demanded of them the body of the murdered man. Taphance, the son of Ponus, and Rehoron his subject, both of whom had been sus- pected as being either the principals in the murderous deed, or chief instigators to it, now feeling the pressure of Indian resolu- tion and fearing the consequences of further endeavors to mask themselves in the presence of these sharp-eyed and now suspect- ing detectives, led the way into the woods directly to the mangled remains,
It would seem that this would have been sufficient to justify the prompt arrest of these two suspected guides. It is true they denied having any hand in the murder. They had pre- viously charged it upon Toquattoes, an Indian who had come down from among or near the maddened Mohawks, with a deep revenge in his soul, to be appeased by the sealp of some white man. Meeting Whitmore alone and without defense, he had satisfied his vengeance against the race by his sudden death, and escaped beyond their knowledge and pursuit. But from the day of the murder, whenever questioned by the neighbors, these two neighboring and now suspected Indians, had shown the deepest concern and fear; and now, while leading the way to the remains, which had already lain three months concealed, they are seized with a terror which makes them pale with fear, if not with conscious guilt. And yet the authorities allowed them to escape. They concealed themselves so effectually as to elude the officers of justice for several years.
At length, in October, 1662, Taphance is brought before the
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Court of Magistrates, held in New Haven, on a warrant issued by the governor. The trial is detailed at length in the New Haven Colonial Records, transcribed and published by Charles J. Hoadley, pages 458-463. The court decided that there was strong grounds of suspicion against Taphance. His own acknowledgment, his trembling, his stealing away after promis- ing help in searching for the murderer, his suspicious looks and actions before Uncas, were in evidence against him. The tes- timony of Mr. Whitmore's wife and children as to his fawning
manner on the very day of Mr. Whitmore's murder, was also in proof. The testimony of Mr. Law and John Mead, who were together when he came to Mr. Law's the second morning after the murder, and the testimony of Richard Ambler and Goodman Jessop, who also saw and heard Taphance at Mr. Law's, was in proof. These agreeing testimonies influenced the court to decide, "that in ye whole there stands a blot vpon him of suspicion ; that there was sufficient grounds for his aprehending and comitting to durance, and all that he hath said at this time canot elear him of a stain of suspicion; but as being guilty of ye murder, directly or accessory, he did pronounce him not guilty in point of death; but yet must declare him to stand bound to pay all charges that hath been about him and leave him guilty of suspicion; and that he stands bound as his duty to doe his best endeavour to obtain ye murderer, and now to remain in durance vntill ye next session of ye court, about a fortnight hence, except he can give some assurance of his pay- inge the charge before, which charge was concluded to be ten pound."
Taphance accepted the judgment [of the court and promised to do his best towards securing the murderer. He pleaded his poverty and asked to have his chains removed, pledging himself not to run away under forfeiture of his life. Upon which he was set at liberty, after providing to appear at the next court.
No further mention of the case appears on record. The spirited contest between the New Haven and Connecticut juris-
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dietions had now eommeneed, and probably directed the atten- tion of the court from all less important matters ; and when, in 1665, the Connecticut had asserted its authority over the New Haven eolony, there was probably no need of further prosceuting the now harmless Indians. Yet, as the following record shows, the contest had imposed upon the infant eolony a burden they were still to bear. And that they did not shrink from acknowl- edging the claims of those who defended them against the wily savage our records abundantly attest. The following is a sam- ple of this testimony :
" In December, 1667, the town granted Jonathan Silleck a piece of land on the west side of the landing place, beginning at Hardy's Hole, as a reward for his meritorious services while engaged against the common enemy."
Evidently the neighboring Indians never again beeame so formidable as to disturb the quiet or aronse seriously the fears of the town. Throughout the century our citizens were oeea- sionally called upon to aid in punishing Indians elsewhere, and that they did good serviee when thus engaged we find oceasional proofs in our records.
Onee more, indeed, our townsmen were somewhat apprehen- sive of danger from a foray of savages. Philip, of the Pokano- kets, the brave son of brave old Massasoit, had witnessed with inereasing sorrow the inroads which the English were making into the cherished hunting grounds of his dwindling race. He could not endure it, thus to bear the doom which was settling upon him. He rebelled against his fate. He resolved to regain his alienated grounds, and bring to the dust the pale-faced invader of his aneestral rights. He maddened every Indian heart within his reach to an Indian's revenge; and the English set- tlers, from the Kennebeek to the Hudson, began to see and feel the avenging desolations of a remorseless Indian war. Driven from his peninsular home, the outraged chieftain, swift as the winds, yet noiseless as the flight of swallows in the air, moves from wigwam to wigwam, and from tribe to tribe, drawing even
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the hitherto peaceful Narragansett into the current of his re- morseless revenge, embittering the concealed but now inexorable hate of the Nipmuc, the Hadley and Springfield, and all the Connecticut river Indians, and even those still further west ; until, within six weeks, he had pledged almost the last stout heart and arm of Indian warrior over all the territory he had traversed, to one final, terrible blow against the invaders of his domain. He had done all that Indian cunning, and eloquence, and hate could do, and he and his awaited the issue of the struggle. Their great, grand war-dance, ending in their wild war-ery, left them no alternative, but the utter extermination of themselves or their foe. . June 24, 1675, had now come. The war torch was lighted at Swansey; and no less than twenty- four of its peaceful citizens poured forth their life-blood, only to whet to keener relish the thirst of the savage murderers. Sud- denly, town after town was surprised; and to the horror of their burning was everywhere added that of an indiscriminating and unsparing massacre. Brookfield, Deerfield, Hadley, North- field, Springfield, Lancaster, Medfield, Weymouth, Groton, Marlborough, Warwick and Providence were successively attacked.
It was during the progress of these desolations of savage war- fare that our townsmen became again alarmed. No immediate attack was threatened, but neither had the slightest signal fore- tokened the fate of either of the above named towns ; and still, at a moment when they least expected it, the fire and the toma- hawk were doing among them their terrible work and their doom was written in letters of blood. And why may it not be so here was the anxious inquiry of our unguarded townsmen.
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