THE VICTORY OVER THE PEQUOTS

The next morning the children had occasion to meet Captain John Mason, that gallant Indian fighter, who was to suppress the Indian uprising. He was a trained soldier, and thoroughly understood the principles of warfare, not only among the whites, but also as these could be best applied to the Indians.

He was a rough and burly man, though kind to the helpless and weak. At present he was busy with reforming the Colonial methods of defense against the Indians.

So far the white men had failed to meet the Indians successfully because they were reluctant to adopt their war methods. The soldiers were heavily armed, cased in armor, and could therefore not accomplish anything against the red men who were light of foot, and easily got away from them. The white men moved slowly, and while they had redoubtable musketry, the Indians would not stand still, until their opponents got ready to shoot them. To load, aim, and fire was a tedious business, and the Indians with their swift movements and their reliable bows and arrows had much the advantage over the white troops who really were trained to fight only their fellow Europeans.

Captain Mason was anxious to change all this. Much of the heavy armor was discarded, and many of the fighting habits of the Indians were adopted. Every day the soldiers, together with the volunteer trappers and settlers, drilled and trained for the fight that would soon take place.

That something decisive had to be done to check the Indian outrages, was clear to all, and every man who could bear a gun was drafted into service. From Massachusetts even many volunteers appeared, and they were gladly received into service by Captain Mason.

Our three young friends found the Captain surrounded by his officers, as soon as he had learned that the children had an important message for him.

He delighted in hearing their stories, and when he was told that the Indians were massing their forces in the eastern part of the country, he at once had his plan ready.

“I am still expecting some troops,” he said, “but as soon as these arrive, I shall march out to prevent our foes from getting too near the settlements. You boys, of course, will follow me, because you are well acquainted with the country and the ways of the Indians. Besides, you speak the Mohican and Pequot language, and that is worth a great deal. In the meanwhile, you shall be my personal guests, and whatever you need, shall be given you. You shall eat and sleep in the officers’ tents.”

Fred and Matthew at once joined the troops, and drilled with them. Among the soldiers they found many boys, who were not much older than they, and so they had good companions, with whom they romped, played, discussed warfare methods, and diverted themselves in a profitable manner in the few hours of leisure left to them.

Old John Rawlins could, of course, not take part in the work of the soldiers, but there was nevertheless much for him to do. His recovery was rapid, and while he still limped somewhat, he was of great assistance to the quartermaster in distributing and managing the supplies.

Agnes, who was a born missionary, soon found occasion to exert her talents. In the fort there were gathered not only men, but also women and children, and the latter she gathered into little groups and instructed them in the Bible. For this the mothers were very grateful, for the children now had something worthwhile to do, and quarrels and strifes were thus obviated. In short, everybody said that the three children proved themselves valuable to the inhabitants of the fort in many ways, and soon the topic of general conversation was nothing else than their varied and useful activity.

But the longer John Mason waited, the less could he repress the strong desire of his men to go and fight the Indians. News arrived every day of settlers captured and tortured to death, and the blood of the soldiers boiled with wrath as they heard of this.

So finally when October came, and the ground was frozen and covered with snow, the troops set out, led by faithful Mohican guides, to attack the Pequots in their own village. From a European point of view the army presented a pitiable appearance, being little more than a rabble of men. But they all burned with a desire to punish the Indians, and every one of them could handle his gun with precision.

Slowly and carefully the whites proceeded to the Indian village at Mystic, where the fierce Pequot chief Sassacus had gathered almost a thousand Indians, the majority of whom could fight.

The Indian village was well concealed in a huge swamp, and had not the ground been frozen, the white men could never have approached it. But the cold winter, of which usually the colonists stood in dread, now proved their best friend, for they could march over the hard ground with ease and reach the Indian village in spite of the swamp which surrounded it.

One day, at noon, it was reported to Captain Mason that they had almost reached the village of Mystic. The troops were gathered in the thick woods, in a little valley, which shut them off from the inquisitive eyes of the Pequot scouts. It was a cold, unpleasant day, and a fierce storm was raging, which drove the sharp, icy flakes into the faces of the men as they moved forward.

Hurriedly John Mason called together his officers and discussed with them the matter of attack. Both the officers and the men desired to go forward at once, since the Indian village was only about seven miles away.

“We can make that in two hours,” one of the men said; “and there will be sufficient time left to punish the redskins thoroughly.” To this all seemed to agree.

“And what do you think of the situation?” the Captain asked Fred. “Do you think we should attack right now?”

The eyes of all were turned upon the boy with eager expectancy, for not one had expected that so great a fighter as Mason should ask him for his advice.

Yet he answered briefly and truthfully.

“I would not do it, Captain,” Fred said calmly; “if I were in command of the troops. Your men are worn out by the march, while the Indians are no doubt ready for an attack. Then, too, if the attack should fail, the night would intervene and disconcert us. My advice would be to give the troops a thorough rest, start out when darkness has set in, and attack the Pequot village toward the morning. This will not give them any time to gather their forces.”

“That advice seems good to me,” the Captain says; “I myself entertained similar thoughts. But pray, tell us more of the plan.”

“We may start fires,” Fred resumed, “since the storm rages and the woods hide the smoke. Also from the Indian village the smoke can not be seen, since it is closed in by trees. So the soldiers can thoroughly rest. When we attack I would supply a number of brave and enterprising men with burning fire brands. These will proceed to the village and set it on fire. The rest is a matter for all of us who fight.”

The plan was adopted, and the march was not resumed until late at night. Just before daybreak the white men surrounded the slumbering village. Due to the severe storm the Indians had not even placed guards around the village, since they did not expect the enemy to attack them.

So it happened that the attack worked out successfully. Fred himself led those who carried the fire brands, and they succeeded in entering the palisaded village and setting it on fire. Eggleston in his “History of the United States and Its People” reports the battle, and says: “In the war which followed this attack, the whole Pequot tribe was broken up, and the other Indians were so terrified that New England had peace for many years after.”

All this is true, for Eggleston is a fine historian, who always relates the events truthfully and accurately. Yet the matter was not as simple as all that. In fact, there was much marching and lighting and suffering, before peace was restored. Fred and Matthew took part in it, until all was ended, and the troops returned to the settlements. But they were heartily glad that the fight was over, for war was very distasteful to them, and their aim in life was not to be good soldiers and kill, but to be useful citizens who could serve both whites and Indians with the more blessed and valuable arts and pursuits of peace. How eager they were to accomplish these, will be learned from the last chapter of our story, in which we find our three young pioneers back at the trading post on the Connecticut River.