USA > Massachusetts > Worcester County > Worcester county; a narrative history, Volume I > Part 13
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One party came upon Minister Whiting at a distance from a garrison. They offered him quarter if he would give himself up. But he proved him- self a fighting parson. He would do nothing of the sort. He died defying
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the savages, rather than "resign himself to them whose tender mercies are cruelty." The Indians had planned first to surprise Thomas Sawyer's garri- son house. The gates stood wide open. There was nothing to prevent their entrance and a massacre, excepting the hand of Providence. Jabez Fairbank was at his own house, half a mile distant from Sawyer's, and decided to fetch his little son from the garrison. So he mounted his horse and approached the gate at a fast gallop at the very moment the Indians were about to rush the place. Seeing Fairbank riding as if to give warning, they gave over the attempt. But they took Ephraim Roper's blockhouse and Daniel Hudson's fortified house.
The escape of the Sawyer garrison rivals that of the worshippers in the Marlboro meeting house on a Sabbath morning when the minister happened to be suffering from a violent toothache. He was compelled to interrupt his sermon and seek relief in the open air. As he left the building he spied lurking Indians, evidently preparing for an attack upon the unsuspecting congrega- tion. His warning came in the nick of time to prevent a massacre.
In 1704, a small army of French and Indians came down from Canada with the intention of attacking Northampton. But they found the village fully prepared to meet them, and so turned their attention to Lancaster. They fell furiously upon the town and in the first onset killed Lieutenant Nathaniel Wilder near the gate of his own blockhouse, "and on the same day three others near the same garrison," wrote Peter Whitney. "The enemy were uncommonly brave, and therefore, though Capt. Tyng, who commanded the soldiers of the garrison, and Captain Howe, with a company from Marl- borough who marched immediately to their assistance, together with the inhabitants of the town, maintained a warm conflict with them for some time, yet being very much inferior in number, were obliged to retreat into the gar- rison. Upon this the enemy burned the meeting-house and six other build- ings, and destroyed much of the livestock of the town. Before night there came such large numbers to the relief of the town, that the enemy retreated, and, though pursued, were not overtaken. What number of the enemy were killed at the above time is uncertain, but it was supposed to be considerable. A French officer of some distinction was mortally wounded, which greatly exasperated them."
The early ministers of Lancaster had no luck. The Reverend Rowlandson lost most of his family, and the other members went into Indian captivity. Reverend Whiting died in hand-to-hand conflict with savages. In October, 1704, a force of the enemy being discovered at Still River, the soldiers and villagers went in search of them and returned in the evening, unsuccessful and greatly fatigued. Minister Gardner, who had been preaching in Lancaster for several years, undertook to mount guard and let the tired soldiers sleep, and went on duty in the sentry box. Late in the night he had occasion to
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leave it, and was heard by one Samuel Prescott, who was in the house. Half asleep, Prescott, supposing the figure in the parade to be that of an enemy, seized the first gun at hand, and shot down his friend. The fatal mistake was quickly discovered, and the dying clergyman was carried within. He forgave Prescott, and in an hour or two expired, "to the great grief not only of his comfort, but of his people, who had a high esteem of him."
A strange finale followed the capture by Indians of Thomas Sawyer, his son Elias and young John Bigelow at the Sawyer garrison house in 1705. A younger son escaped through a back window. Sawyer was well known to the savages as a dangerous man. Evidently he had built up a reputation of respect, but at the same time a burning desire for revenge. They treated him with cruelty on the long march northward. When he finally reached Montreal, he offered a bargain to the French governor. On the River Chamblee, he informed that gentleman, was a very fine millsite. He would build there a sawmill, in payment for the ransom of young Bigelow, his son and himself. The governor quickly agreed to the plan, for at the time there was not a sawmill in all Canada. He accordingly applied to the Indian captors, and easily obtained the ransom of the boys. But no sum would purchase the redemption of the elder Sawyer. "Him being distinguished for his bravery, which had proved fatal to a number of their brethren, they were determined to immolate."
So their victim was led forth and fastened to a stake, and combustibles were piled about him, so disposed as to effect a lingering death, which was a specialty of the North American Indian. "The savages surrounded the unfortunate prisoner, and began to anticipate the horrid pleasure of behold- ing their captive writhing in torture amidst the rising flames, and a rending the air with their dismal yells.
"On a sudden a Friar appeared, and, with great solemnity, held forth what he declared to be the key to Purgatory; and told them that unless they imme- diately released their prisoner, he would instantly unlock the gates, and send them headlong thereinto."
The Indians were taking no chances of Purgatory. They quickly unbound Sawyer and gave him over to the governor. He completed the mill in one year, and the Frenchman's promise was kept. Sawyer, senior, and Bigelow were released, but young Sawyer was detained a year longer to instruct French artisans in the operation of the mill and in keeping it in order. Then, duly rewarded, he was sent home to his friends.
It was in August, 1697, that a battle was fought in what is now the town- ship of Sterling, in which the English failure to seize a quick opportunity resulted in the death of Jonathan Wilder, of Marlboro, a native of Lancaster. A band of "twenty stout Indians, who according to their own account had all been captains," raided Marlboro on the 18th. The next day they were over-
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taken in Sterling by a company of thirty men from Lancaster and Marlboro. The Indians were taken completely by surprise. Their packs were on their backs, and, it being a misty day, their guns were in their cases. All the Eng- lish had to do was to run upon them, for they were prepared to surrender. Wilder would have been rescued unharmed.
But the settlers were slow. Only ten of them advanced, and the savage instantly saw their advantage. Packs were thrown aside, the cases ripped from their guns, Wilder was killed, and the fight began. Nine Indians were killed, and they lost all their packs. Two English were dead and two were wounded. A few moments of holding back robbed the settlers of a bloodless victory and the captive Wilder of his life. There were other outrages, and not until 1710 was the last attack made upon Lancaster.
In Lovewell's War, in which Massachusetts was fighting the Indian tribes of Maine and New Hampshire, the village was not involved in any trouble.
Mendon and Brookfield Resettled-When peace was restored the inhabitants of Mendon did not waste time in returning to their plantation. They rebuilt their homes, and erected a sawmill and gristmill, and meeting- house and parsonage. In 1686 fifty families were living in the township. Rev. Grindell Rawson was their minister, receiving as his annual compensation £55 and "one cord of wood for every forty-acre lot, and a train-band to cut it at his door." The growth of the community became so rapid that there was a dearth of good arable land and pasturage, and in 1692 three square miles of territory was added adjoining the northern boundary, which was known as the North Purchase, and eventually was included in the township of Auburn. Another tract adjoining the eastern border, of two thousand acres, was pur- chased in 1710, and in later years became a part of Bellingham. The town was too far to the south to suffer more anxiety in the subsequent wars, though as late as 1704 it was still classed as a frontier town and had its garrison houses.
Brookfield was ill-situated for an early resettlement. It could not expect quick relief from other towns in case of Indian attack, and, as a conspicuous outpost, was inviting to savage raiders. It remained truly a deserted village for some years, for the Quaboag Indians as well as the English had been driven from their homes. The legislative act which annulled its town privi- leges was another drawback. Not until 1686 was a committee petitioned for, but previous to that time a few scattered families had come in and taken up farms. Of the Ipswich people who had first settled Brookfield, only one family, that of John Ayres, returned. The newcomers were chiefly from Marlboro and Connecticut Valley towns. Gilbert's Fort was their principal stronghold, and other dwellings were strengthened as garrison houses. The plantation had made a good beginning when the outbreak of King William's War put a damper on the interest of prospective settlers, which continued for years.
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The Indians did not wait long before descending upon the settlement. In midsummer of 1692, Joseph Woolcot was at work in the field a little distance from his house, and his wife, being fearful, took her children and went out to him. When they returned home they discovered that Indians had been there, and had stolen Woolcot's gun and other things. Looking from a window he saw a savage some distance away approaching the house. So he sent his wife and two little girls into the bushes, where they would be concealed, while he, taking his boy under one arm, and his broadaxe in the other hand, went forth with his large and savage dog to give battle. The dog attacked the Indian with such ferocity that he was compelled to shoot it. His gun being empty, he took to his heels, loading as he ran, and Woolcot, dropping the boy, started after him. The pursuit continued until the Englishman "heard the bullet roll down the gun." Whereupon he turned and snatching up his child, escaped through a swamp to a garrison house. His wife and daughters would prob- ably have been safe if the woman had been able to restrain her shrieks. They led the Indians to her hiding place, and she and her children were killed.
Others of the same band entered the house of the Mason family, who were at dinner. They killed the man and one or two children, and carried away the mother and her infant. They also captured the brothers Thomas and Daniel Lawrence, and killed the latter because they insisted he had misled them as to the number of men in the settlement. Their brother John hastened with all possible speed to Springfield, and a company commanded by Captain Colton was soon in hot pursuit. They found the body of the Mason infant, where it had been thrown in the bushes.
The Indians evidently had no suspicion that they were being pursued, for the English stole up on their camp, which they had surrounded with a hedge of brush as what they derisively called an "English Fort." The soldiers waited for daybreak, and approached the "fort," still unperceived. They had actually thrust their guns through the brush before the enemy was aware of their predicament. It was a slaughter. Fifteen of the savages were killed by the volley, and the rest ran for their lives. They left behind them some of their guns, and their blankets, powder-horns and other articles. They also left Mrs. Mason and young Lawrence. Not long afterwards the Indians had their revenge on John Lawrence, for while he and a companion were searching for a missing man, they were ambushed. His friend escaped, but he was killed.
The Woolcot family seemed to be doomed. On a later occasion, John Wool- cot, a lad of fourteen years, was riding in search of the cows, when Indians fired on him. His horse was killed and he was captured. Six men of a gar- rison heard the firing, and believing another of the houses had been attacked, hastened to its assistance. They were waylaid by the Indians. "The English saw not their danger, till they saw there was no escaping it," wrote an early
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author. "And therefore, knowing that an Indian could not look an English- man in the face and take a right aim, they stood their ground, presenting their pieces wherever they saw an Indian, without discharging them, excepting Abijah Bartlett, who turned to flee and was killed. The Indians kept firing at the rest and wounded three of them, Joseph Jennings in two places. One ball grazed the top of his head, by which he was struck blind for a moment, another ball passed through his shoulder, wounding his collar bone. Yet by neither did he fall, nor was he mortally wounded. Benjamin Jennings was wounded in the leg and John Green in the wrist. They were preserved at last by the following strategem :
"A' large dog, hearing the firing, came to our men, one of whom, to encourage his brethren and intimidate the Indians, called out, 'Capt. Williams is come to our assistance, for here is his dog.' The savages, seeing the dog, and knowing Williams to be a famous Indian fighter, immediately fled and our men escaped."
Westboro did not become an incorporated town, set off from Marlboro, until 1717, but in the first years of the century it had become a little commu- nity by itself, and had three of the Marlboro garrison houses. In 1704 Indians raided the farm of Edmund Rice, killed his five-year-old boy, and carried off two older sons, Silas and Timothy. They never returned, but were adopted into the Caghnawaga tribe, and when grown to manhood became sachems of commanding influence.
CHAPTER XIII.
Settlement of Worcester Again Attempted
The first settlement of Worcester, or Quinsigamond, as it was then called, had hardly begun before King Philip's War compelled its abandonment. Several years elapsed before any step was taken toward its restablishment. Finally, Major-General Gookin, Captain Henchman and Captain Prentice, the three surviving members of the original committee that laid out the plan- tation, called a meeting of the proprietors, which was held in Cambridge, March 3, 1679. An agreement was signed by the sixteen proprietors present that, "God willing, they intend and purpose, if God spare life, and peace con- tinue, to endeavor, either in their persons, or by their relations or purses, to settle the plantation some time the next summer, come twelve month, which shall be in the year of the Lord 1680." It was decided to build the town according to a plan proposed by Gookin and Henchman, the chief purpose of which was to "build together so as to defend ourselves."
But still no move toward settlement was made. Then the General Court got impatient and notified the proprietors that unless prompt measures were taken to form a plantation the grant would be declared forfeited. That brought action. The following spring Captain Henchman and a small party of men, believed to have been former settlers, proceeded to Quinsigamond, and spent the season building log houses and in other ways preparing for the coming of permanent residents. Nor were these long in taking advantage of the opportunity, for in 1684 a sufficient number of families were settled to call forth the following order from the Middlesex County Court, rendered on petition of the committee, "requiring the people living in the Plantation of Quinsigamond to meet together on the Sabbath days to celebrate the worship of God in the best manner they can at present, and till they do increase to such a number as that they may be capable to call and maintain a learned pious and orthodox minister, as they will answer their neglect at their peril. And Capt. Daniel Henchman is requested and authorized to take special care to prevent the profanation of the Sabbath Day by neglect thereof."
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The same session of court, having provided for the spiritual welfare of the community, saw to it that bodily comfort should not be neglected, by licens- ing Captain Henchman's son Nathaniel "to keep a house of entertainment for travailers at Quinsicamond for a year next ensuing. Also he is allowed to sell and furnish travellers or inhabitants with rhum or other strong waters in bottles of a pint or quart. But not to retail any in his house or suffer Tipling there." No open saloon for the court of Middlesex.
A plan of reassigning the land was determined upon in 1684. Lots were to be laid out of ten and twenty-five acres, the township to be divided into four hundred and eighty of these, of which two hundred were for assignment to planters, and eighty for public uses and specific appropriations. The remain- ing two hundred were at the northern extremity of the township, afterward to be known as North Worcester and eventually to become the town of Holden. "Land for a citadel was laid out on the Fort River" (Mill Brook) "about half a mile square, for houselots for those who should at their first settling, build and dwell thereon . . to the end that the inhabitants may settle in a way of defence .... and each one to have a house lot there at least six rods square." The citadel was to have two "fire-rooms" for the accommodation of travelers along the county road from Boston to Connecticut, this being, it was stated, "one reason for granting the plantation."
In 1684 the name was changed to Worcester to commemorate the battle of Worcester, in which Cromwell's Puritan Ironsides broke the Royalist hopes.
In 1692, when the Indian raids in Maine and New York brought the hazard of war most urgently to the minds of the inhabitants of the outlying settlements, Captain John Wing was the military commander of Worcester. He had brought to the plantation an Irishman named George Downing, who was probably the first of his race to take up residence there. When Captain Wing obtained from the Governor and Council a strengthening of the garrison he caused the appointment of Downing as commander of the local militia, which was made up of the townspeople. Another story is that Downing's wife procured his commission.
This was bitterly resented. Some of the settlers had been officers in King Philip's War, while, they declared, Downing had been only a coachman. They refused, when ordered, to report at the garrison house for duty. How long this spirit of defiance lasted is not known, nor is there a record to indicate whether Downing continued in his post of commander. He wrote to the Governor and Council complaining of the attitude of the village soldiers, and setting forth that he had not enough men "to watch and ward and scout as the warrant commands." One considerable group of settlers, whose farms were at the south end of the township, likewise wrote the authorities at Boston, declaring that as the garrison house was at the north end, their homes and fields were two miles distant, and that to desert them would mean ruin. There-
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fore, they proposed to build a fort of their own, where they could guard their homestead acres.
There were Indian raids in the immediate vicinity. Goodman Levering and three children were killed in Oxford in August, 1696. One war party actually entered Worcester and carried away a boy. Many of the inhabitants moved to less exposed towns. The final result was an order of the General Court issued on March 22, 1699, striking Worcester from the list of frontier towns, the population having become so small that the assignment of a garrison to defend it was not considered justifiable.
Only one family remained. Digory Sargent refused to leave his farm on Sagatabscot Hill, now Union Hill. The authorities sent messenger after messenger to him, ordering him to withdraw his family, but he refused, in the belief that in case of attack he could beat off the savages. In the winter of 1703-04, Captain Howe with a guard of twelve soldiers was dispatched to Worcester with orders to remove Sargent and his people, by force, if neces- sary. But the soldiers were too late. They found the stubborn settler mur- dered. His wife and several children had been carried away captives. Cap- tain Howe and his men slept in the Sargent house that night, and it was afterwards learned that they had as housemates six Indians, who had hidden in the cellar.
Again Worcester was a deserted village. It was destined to remain a cleared place in the wilderness, untenanted except by beast and bird, until, on October 21, 1713, shortly before the setting in of winter, Jonas Rice and his family took up their residence on the land where Digory Sargent had lived and died, and became the first permanent inhabitants of Worcester. In fact, for eighteen months they were the only settlers. But within five years Worces- ter had fifty-eight dwelling houses.
Hannah Dustin and Samuel Leonard's Escape-The history of the county would not be complete without the tale of Samuel Leonard, the Worcester lad, and the deadly part played by his tomahawk in the escape of the famous Hannah Dustin from her Indian master, after her capture at the sack of Haverhill.
Few women in all history have risen to such heights of desperate and piti- less courage and action. The tale is an epic. She was its heroine, Samuel Leonard its hero-a lad of fourteen, who had been taken two years before by a roving band of northern savages. Mrs. Dustin planned the slaughter of their captors upon which their escape depended. In the dead of night, she and the lad and a woman who had been seized with her, tomahawked men, women and children as they slept, and won their liberty.
Hannah Dustin had lost every scruple of life and death so far as Indians were concerned. They had dragged her from her bed, and, before her eyes,
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had dashed out the brains of her week-old babe. While winter still lingered in that northern latitude, they had compelled her to travel afoot through the forest, day after day, in forced marches, the ground frozen, fording streams, half starved, snatching fitful sleep on the icy forest floor, and had laughed at her sufferings. They had tormented her with pictures of what her fate would be when they arrived at the rendezvous-the scourging, the tortures of the gauntlet, a target for the tomahawks of young braves, slavery among the French. They derided the faint-hearted English who, they told her, had swooned under the torments. At Haverhill, her husband and seven children had escaped immediate capture, but she, not knowing, was racked with anxiety as to their fate. It is small wonder that this pioneer woman felt no pang of reluctance in her cool-headed, cold-blooded planning of a wholesale human killing, nor in pulling scalps from the heads of her half score dead enemies, that she might bear away with her proof of what might otherwise seem an unbelievable story.
Samuel Leonard, Sr., had settled in Worcester about the year 1690, com- ing from Bridgewater with his family, and had built a log house on the high land overlooking Lake Quinsigamond, east of what today is Plantation Street. In the autumn of 1695, when the harvest had taken the older members of the family into the fields, a war party of Indians passing along the trail from Hassanamisco to Lancaster espied twelve-year-old Samuel, Jr., playing around the house, and seized him. Two years later, Bampico, the brave who held the boy a captive, was one of the party which attacked Haverhill, on March 15, 1697, and Samuel was with him, which accounts for his presence in the band with Mrs. Dustin. Arriving in the vicinity of the settlement, the prisoners and plunder were left under guard of squaws and children, and in the early morning the warriors divided into small bands and dispersed to attack at a number of points at once, on a given signal.
Thomas Dustin, whose farm was in the outskirts of the village, was at work early in the field, and with him were seven of his eight children, from two to seventeen years old. Discovering the presence of Indians, he ordered his children to make their way as swiftly as possible to a garrison house, while he hurried to his house, to rescue his wife and baby and Mary Neff, a widow, who was attending her.
But, to quote Original Narratives of Early American History, a contem- porary writing, "E'er Hannah Dustin could get up and dress, the fierce Indians were so near, that utterly despairing to do her any service, Mr. Dustin ran out after his children, resolving that he would take on his horse the one which he should in this extremity find his affections to pitch most upon, and leave the rest unto the care of Divine Providence.
"He overtook his children about forty rods from his door ; but then, such was the agony of his parental affections, that he found it impossible for him
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to distinguish any one of them from the rest; wherefore he took up a cou- rageous resolution to live and die with them all. A party of Indians came up with him; and now, though they fired at him, and he fired at them, yet he manfully kept at the rear of his little army of unarmed children, while they marched off, with the pace of a child of five years old; until, by the singular providence of God, he arrived safe with them all, unto a place of safety, about a mile or two from his house."
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