Peter Stuyvesant, the Last Dutch Governor of New Amsterdam Part 6

The humane and judicious patroon, DeVrees, in whom the Indians seem to have reposed great confidence, had a beautiful estate several miles up the river, at a place called Vreesendael. It was a delightful spot of about five hundred fertile acres, through which wound a fine stream affording handsome mill seats. The meadows yielded hay enough spontaneously for two hundred head of cattle.

DeVrees, finding his house full of fugitive savages, on their retreat to Pavonia, at the mouth of the river, paddled down in a canoe through the floating ice to fort Amsterdam, to confer with Director Kieft upon the emergency. He urged upon the Director that these poor Indians, thus escaping from the terrible Iroquois and grateful for the protection which the Dutch had not denied them, might easily be won to a sincere friendship. On the other hand, some of the more fiery spirits in the colony thought that the occasion furnished them with an opportunity so to cripple the Indians as to render them forever after powerless. They sent in a pet.i.tion to Kieft, saying,

"We entreat that immediate hostile measures may be directed against the savages. They have not yet delivered up the a.s.sa.s.sins of Smits and Van Voorst, and thus these murders remain unavenged. The national character of the Dutch must suffer. G.o.d has now delivered our enemies into our hands.

Let us attack them. We offer our services, and urge that united parties of soldiers and civilians a.s.sail them at several points."

These views were in entire harmony with the wishes of the sanguinary Kieft. He was delighted with the prospect of a war in which victory seemed easy and certain. Disregarding the remonstrances of DeVrees, and of the Christian minister Bogardus, he made efficient preparation for the slaughter of the helpless savages.

He sent his secretary and a military officer across the river to reconnoitre the position of the Indians. There were two bands of these trembling fugitives, one at Pavonia, on the Jersey side of the river, and one at Corlaer's Hook, on the Island of Manhattan, just above fort Amsterdam. Secretly, at midnight of the 25th of February, 1643, the armed bands advanced against their unsuspecting victims. They were sleeping in fancied security when the murderous a.s.sault commenced.

"The noise of muskets," writes Brodhead, "mingled with the shrieks of the terrified Indians. Neither age nor s.e.x were spared. Warrior and squaw, sachem and child, mother and babe, were alike ma.s.sacred. Daybreak scarcely ended the furious slaughter. Mangled victims, seeking safety in the thickets, were driven into the river. Parents, rushing to save their children whom the soldiers had thrown into the stream, were driven back into the waters and drowned before the eyes of their unrelenting murderers."

"I sat up that night," writes DeVrees,

"by the kitchen fire at the Director's. About midnight, hearing loud shrieks, I ran up to the ramparts of the fort.

Looking towards Pavonia, I saw nothing but shooting, and heard nothing but the shrieks of Indians murdered in their sleep."

With the dawn of the morning the victorious Dutch returned from their scene of slaughter, bearing with them about thirty prisoners, and the _heads_ instead of the _scalps_ of many warriors. Kieft welcomed these blood-stained men with "shaking of hands and congratulations." The tidings of this outrage spread far and wide among the Indian tribes in the valley of the Hudson and on the Long Island sh.o.r.e.

Private enterprise, relying upon the protection of Kieft, had sent out a foraging expedition upon Long Island. Kieft a.s.sumed that he saw signs of hostility there. The unsuspecting savages were plundered of two wagon loads of grain. These Indians, who had thus far been the warmest friends of the Dutch, were now justly roused to the highest pitch of indignation. They immediately made common cause with the river tribes, who were almost frenzied with the desire to avenge the midnight ma.s.sacres of Pavonia and Manhattan. The storm which thus burst upon New Netherland was sudden and awful. The savages, in their rage, developed energy and power totally unantic.i.p.ated.

Eleven tribes combined in the most furious and merciless attacks upon the lonely farm-houses. Everywhere the war-whoop resounded, and the plumed and painted savages emerged from swamps and thickets, and a.s.sailed every unprotected dwelling. The farmer was shot in the field, his dwelling burned, and his wife and children were thrown into the flames. Many women and children, their lives being spared, were carried into captivity worse than death. Houses, haystacks and granaries were fired. Cattle were slain or driven off, and crops destroyed.

Terror held high carnival. From the banks of the Raritan to the valley of the Housatonic, over a region of hundreds of square miles, not a plantation was safe. Men, women and children, haggard with hunger, exposure and woe, fled from their deserted homes to fort Amsterdam.

Despairing of ever again finding peaceful residence in this new world, with one voice they demanded a return to the fatherland. The Dutch colonies were threatened with immediate and entire depopulation.

Kieft himself was terrified in view of the frightful storm he had raised. He was compelled to enlist every able-bodied man as a soldier.

There was an end to all traffic, to all agriculture, to all the arts of industry. Even the plantation of the humane DeVrees did not escape the undiscriminating wrath of the savages. The outhouses, cattle and crops were utterly destroyed. Quite a number of the terrified colonists had taken refuge in the manor house which DeVrees had prudently built very strong, and constructed with loopholes for musketry.

The Indians were besieging the place, when one of their tribe came, whom DeVrees had a.s.sisted to escape from the ma.s.sacre at Manhattan. He told the story of his escape and said that DeVrees was a good chief whom they ought to respect. The Indians held a short consultation, and then the grateful savages deputed one of their number to advance within speaking distance of the manor house. This man, whom we call a savage, cried out:

"We are very sorry that we have destroyed the outhouses, the cattle and the crops. We now know that chief DeVrees is a good chief and our friend. If we had not destroyed his property we would not do so. We will not harm the brewery, though we all greatly need the copper kettle to make barbs for our arrows."

These n.o.ble red men, for we must think they exhibited a n.o.ble spirit, then departed. DeVrees was, at the time, in the manor house. He hastened down the river to fort Amsterdam and indignantly addressing the governor, said: "Has it not happened just as I foretold, that you are only helping to shed Christian blood? Who will now compensate us for our losses?"

The wretched Kieft had not one word to reply. He however, made a weak and unavailing attempt to appease the wrath of the Long Island Indians. But the roaring tornado of savage vengeance could not thus be divested of its terrors. The messengers he sent, approaching a band of Indians, cried out to them, "We come to you as friends." They shouted back contemptuously, "Are you our friends? You are only corn thieves."

Refusing all intercourse they disappeared in the forest.

During all these scenes the infamous and cowardly Kieft ensconced himself securely within the walls of the fort. The bewailings of ruined farmers, and of widows and orphan children rose all around him.

To divert public clamor, he fitted out several expeditions against the Indians. But these expeditions all returned having accomplished nothing.

"The proud heart of the Director," writes Brodhead,

"began to fail him at last. In one week desolation and sorrow had taken the place of gladness and prosperity. The colony entrusted to his charge was nearly ruined. It was time to humble himself before the Most High, and invoke from heaven the mercy which the Christian had refused the savage.

"A day of general fasting and prayer was proclaimed. 'We continue to suffer much trouble and loss from the heathen, and many of our inhabitants see their lives and property in jeopardy, which is doubtless owing to our sins,' was Kieft's contrite confession, as he exhorted every one penitently to supplicate the mercy of G.o.d, 'so that his holy name may not, through our iniquities, be blasphemed by the heathen.'"

The people still held the Director responsible for all the consequences which had followed the ma.s.sacres of Pavonia and Corlaer's Hook. They boldly talked of arresting and deposing him, and of sending him, as a culprit, back to Holland. The Director, panic stricken, endeavored to shift the responsibility of the insane course which had been pursued, upon one Adriansen, an influential burgher, who was the leading man among the pet.i.tioners who had counselled war.

Adriansen was now a ruined man. His own plantation had been utterly devastated. Exasperated by his losses, he had no disposition to take upon himself the burden of that popular odium which had now become so heavy. Losing all self-control, he seized a sword and a pistol, and rushed into the Director's room, with the apparent intention of a.s.sa.s.sinating him, exclaiming, "what lies are these you are reporting of me."

He was disarmed and imprisoned. One of his servants took a gun, went to the fort and deliberately discharged the piece at the Director, but without hitting him. The would-be a.s.sa.s.sin was shot down by a sentinel and his head exposed upon the scaffold. Adriansen was sent to Holland for trial.

After terrible scenes of suffering, a temporary peace was restored through the heroic interposition of DeVrees. He was the only man who dared to venture among the exasperated Indians. They watched over him kindly, and entreated him to be cautious in exposing himself, lest harm might befall him from some wandering Indians by whom he was not known. But the wrongs which the Indians had experienced were too deep to be buried in oblivion. And there was nothing in the character of Kieft to secure their confidence. After the truce of a few weeks the war, without any imaginable cause, broke out anew.

All the settlements at Westchester and Long Island were laid waste.

Scarcely an inhabitant, save the roving Indian, was to be found in those regions. The Dutch were driven out of the whole of New Jersey.

The settlers on Staten Island were trembling in hourly expectation of an a.s.sault. War's devastating surges of flame and blood swept nearly the whole island of Manhattan. Bold men ventured to remain well armed, upon a few of the farms, or _boweries_ as they were called, in the immediate vicinity of the fort, but they were continually menaced with attack, night and day. A _bowery_ was a farm on which the family resided. A plantation was one of those extended tracts of land, which was partly cultivated but upon which no settler dwelt. There was no protection anywhere for the trembling population, save in and directly around fort Amsterdam. Mr. Brodhead, alluding to these scenes of terror, writes,

"The women and children lay concealed in straw huts, while their husbands and fathers mounted guard on the crumbling ramparts above. For the fort itself was almost defenceless.

It resembled rather a mole-hill than a fortress against an enemy. The cattle, which had escaped destruction, were huddled within the walls, and were already beginning to starve for want of forage. It was indispensable to maintain a constant guard at all hours, for seven allied tribes, well supplied with muskets, powder and ball, which they had procured from private traders, boldly threatened to attack the dilapidated citadel with all their strength, now amounting to fifteen hundred men.

"So confident had the enemy become, that their scouting parties constantly threatened the advanced sentinels of the garrison. Ensign Van Dyck, while relieving guard at one of the outposts, was wounded by a musket ball in his arm. All the forces that the Dutch could now muster, besides the fifty or sixty soldiers in garrison, were about two hundred freemen. With this handful of men was New Netherland to be defended against the implacable fury of her savage foe."

For a time the war which had desolated the region of the lower valley of the Hudson, did not reach fort Na.s.sau, now Albany. The tribes resident there were at war with the lower river tribes. As these Indians still maintained apparently friendly relations with the whites, the patroon, Van Rensselaer, allowed his agents freely to sell to them fire arms and powder.

This distant and feeble post at this time consisted only of a wretched little fort built of logs, with eight or ten small cannon or swivels.

A hamlet of about thirty huts was scattered along the river. A church, thirty-four feet long by nineteen wide, had been erected in a pine grove within range of the guns of the fort. Nine benches accommodated the congregation. A very faithful pastor, Domine Megapolensis, ministered to them.

The red men were often attracted to the church to hear the preached gospel, and wondered what it meant. Megapolensis writes:

"When we have a sermon sometimes ten or twelve of the Indians will attend, each having in his mouth a long tobacco pipe made by himself, and will stand awhile and look.

Afterwards they will ask me what I was doing, and what I wanted, that I stood there alone and made so many words and none of the rest might speak.

"I tell them that I admonish the Christians that they must not steal or drink, or commit murder, or do anything wrong, and that I intend, after a while, to come and preach to them when I am acquainted with their language. They say that I do well in teaching the christians, but immediately add, 'Why do so many christians do these things?'"

This was several years before John Eliot commenced preaching the gospel to the Indians near Boston. Kieft very earnestly applied to the English colony at New Haven for a.s.sistance against the Indians. The proposal was submitted to the General Court. After mature deliberation, it was decided that the Articles of Confederation between the New England colonies prohibited them from engaging separately in war; and that moreover "they were not satisfied that the Dutch war with the Indians was just."

The Dutch Director, thus disappointed in obtaining a.s.sistance from the English, was roused to the energies of desperation. The spirit of the people also rose to meet the emergency. It was determined to commence the most vigorous offensive measures against the savages.

We have not s.p.a.ce to enter into the details of this dreadful war. We will record one of its sanguinary scenes, as ill.u.s.trative of many others. The Connecticut Indians, in the vicinity of Greenwich, had joined the allied tribes, and were becoming increasingly active in their hostility. Ensign Van Dyck was dispatched with one hundred and fifty men in three vessels. The expedition landed at Greenwich. The Indian warriors, over five hundred in number, were a.s.sembled in a strongly palisaded village in the vicinity of Stamford.

It was midnight in February, 1644, when the expedition approached the Indian village. All the day long the men had toiled through the snow.

It was a wintry night, clear and cold, with a full moon whose rays, reflected by the dazzling surface of hill and valley, were so brilliant that "many winter days were not brighter."

The Dutch, discharging a volley of bullets upon the doomed village, charged, sword in hand. The savages, emboldened by their superior numbers, made a desperate resistance. But in a conflict like this, arrows are comparatively powerless when opposed to muskets. The Indians, unable to reach their foes with their arrows, made several very bold sallies, recklessly endeavoring to break the Dutch lines.

They were invariably driven back with great loss. Not one of them could show himself outside the palisades without being shot down.

In less than an hour the dark forms of one hundred and eighty Indian warriors lay spread out upon the blood-crimsoned snow. And now the Dutch succeeded in applying the torch. The whole village, composed of the most combustible materials, was instantly in flames. The Indians lost all self-possession. They ran to and fro in a state of frenzy. As they endeavored to escape they were, with unerring aim, shot down, or driven back into their blazing huts. Thus over five hundred perished.

Of all who crowded the little village at nightfall but eight escaped.

Only eight of the Dutch were wounded; but not one fatally.

The conflagration of an hour laid the bark village in ashes. Nothing remained. The victors built large fires and bivouacked upon the snow.

The next day they returned to Stamford, and two days afterward reached fort Amsterdam.

War is generally ruin to both parties. In this case neither of the combatants gained anything. Both parties alike reaped but a harvest of blood and woe. Scouting parties of the savages prowled beneath the very walls of fort Amsterdam, ready at a moment's warning, to dart into the wilderness, where even the bravest of the Dutch could not venture to pursue. For the protection of the few cattle which remained, all the men turned out and built a stout fence, "from the great bowery or farm across to Emanuel plantation," near the site of the present Wall street.