THE FLAGS THAT BROUGHT THE COLONISTS

More than three hundred years ago a little sailing vessel set out from Holland, crossed the Atlantic Ocean, and followed down our coast from Greenland. Its captain, Henry Hudson, was in search of a quick and easy route to Asia, and when he entered the mouth of the river that is named for him, he hoped that he had found a strait leading to the Asiatic coast. He was disappointed in this, but the Indians welcomed him, the mountains were rich in forests, and the ground was fertile. “It is the most beautiful land in all the world,” declared the enthusiastic navigator.

Henry Hudson was an Englishman, but he sailed in the employ of the Dutch East India Company, and soon the flag of this Company was well known along the Hudson River. It was the old flag of Holland, three horizontal stripes, of orange, white, and blue, with the initials of the Company on the white stripe. Hudson had not found a new route to Asia, but he had opened the way for the fur-trade. In a few years the Dutch had established trading-posts as far north as Albany. They had also founded a city which we call “New York,” but which they named “New Amsterdam.” So it was that in 1609 the Dutch flag first came to the New World.

Nearly thirty years after the voyage of Henry Hudson, a company of Swedes made a settlement on the Delaware River. This had been planned by the great Gustavus Adolphus, King of Sweden. “That colony will be the jewel of my kingdom,” he said; but the “Lion of the North” was slain in battle, and his twelve-year-old daughter Christina had become queen. That is why the loyal Swedes named their little fortification Fort Christiana, and over it they raised the flag of their country, a blue banner with a yellow cross.

In course of time the Swedes were overpowered by the Dutch, and then the Dutch by the English; so that before many years had passed, the only flag that floated over the “Old Thirteen” colonies was that of England. This was brought across the sea by the settlers of our first English colony, Jamestown, in Virginia. Moreover, they had the honor of sailing away from England in all the glories of a brand-new flag made in a brand-new design. The flag of England had been white with a red upright cross known as “St. George’s Cross”; but a new king, James I, had come to the throne, and the flag as well as many other things had met with a change. James was King of Scotland by birth, and the Scotch flag was blue with the white diagonal cross of St. Andrew. When James became King of England, he united the two flags by placing on a blue background the upright cross of St. George over the diagonal cross of St. Andrew; and he was so well pleased with the result that he commanded every English vessel to bear in its maintop this flag, “joined together according to the form made by our own heralds,” the King declared with satisfaction. It was the custom at that time to call “ancient” whatever was not perfectly new, and therefore the flag used before James became king was spoken of as the “ancient flag,” while the new one became the “King’s Flag” or the “Union Jack.” This change was made in the very year when the grant for Virginia was obtained, and therefore the little company of settlers probably sailed for America with the “King’s Flag” in the maintop and the “ancient flag” in the foretop.

On land, among the colonists, sometimes one flag was floated and sometimes the other. In Massachusetts the red cross of St. George seems to have been much in use; but before long that red cross began to hurt the consciences of the Puritans most grievously. To them the cross was the badge of the Roman Catholic Church. Still, it was on the flag of their mother country, the flag that floated over their forts and their ships. The Puritan conscience was a stern master, however, and when one day John Endicott led the little company of Salem militia out for a drill, and saw that cross hanging over the governor’s gate, the sight was more than he could bear, and he but Hawthorne has already told the story:

Endicott gazed around at the excited countenances of the people,
now full of his own spirit, and then turned suddenly to the
standard-bearer, who stood close behind him.

“Officer, lower your banner!” said he.

The officer obeyed; and brandishing his sword, Endicott thrust it through the cloth, and, with his left hand, rent the red cross completely out of the banner. He then waved the tattered ensign above his head.

“Sacrilegious wretch!” cried the High Churchman in the pillory,
unable longer to restrain himself, “thou hast rejected the symbol
of our holy religion!”

“Treason, treason!” roared the Royalist in the stocks. “He hath
defaced the King’s banner!”

“Before God and man, I will avouch the deed,” answered Endicott. “Beat a flourish, drummer! shout, soldiers and people! in honor of the ensign of New England. Neither Pope nor Tyrant hath part in it now!”

With a cry of triumph the people gave their sanction to one of the
boldest exploits which our history records.

Endicott was one of the court assistants, but he was now removed from his position and forbidden to hold any public office for one year. He was fortunate in being permitted to retain his head.

Endicott had been punished, but the Puritan conscience was not yet at rest, and now many of the militia declared that they did not think it right to march under the cross. The whole militia could not well be punished, and the commissioners for military affairs were as doubtful as the honest militia men about what should be done. “We will leave it to the next General Court to decide,” they said, “and in the meantime no flags shall be used anywhere.”

This seemed a comfortable way to settle the question, but unluckily there was a fort on Castle Island at the entrance to Boston Harbor, and when an English vessel came sailing in, its captain refused to pay any attention to a fort without a flag. Then the officer in command rose to his dignity and made the ship maybe with the aid of a ball across her bows strike her colors. The captain complained to the authorities that the commandant of this flagless fort had insulted his flag and his country. The authorities were just a bit alarmed. To insult a flag and a country was a serious matter. “What shall we do to make amends?” they queried. “Let the officer who proffered the insult come on board of my vessel and say in the presence of the ship’s company that he was in fault,” replied the captain. This was done, and the sky cleared.

But the troubles of the colonists were by no means over. The mate of another vessel declared with considerable emphasis that these people were all rebels and traitors to the King. Surely the thought of such a report as this going back to England from a tiny colony clinging to the edge of the continent was enough to alarm the boldest. Discussions were held, and Dr. John Cotton was appealed to.

A canny man was this Dr. John Cotton, and he decided that inasmuch as the fort belonged to the King, it was proper that it should display the King’s Flag, whatever it might be, “while vessels are passing,” he added shrewdly; but that, as for the militia, each company might have its own colors, and not one of them need bear a cross. So the great tempest passed by.