From this time persecution ceased in New Netherland. Either Governor Stuyvesant was convinced by the argument in the above dispatch, or he was intimidated by his rebuke. After two years of absence John Brown returned to New Netherland, and it is said that the governor received him as though he were ashamed of what he had done.
The year 1663 was a year of many disasters. Early in the year an earthquake shook severely the whole of New Netherland and of the adjacent regions. The melting of the snow in the spring, and the falling rains caused a desolating freshet, which inundated all the meadow lands of the rivers, utterly destroying the crops. This calamity was followed by the small-pox, which spread with a like rapidity and fatality among the Europeans and the Indians. Of the Iroquois Indians over a thousand died. In addition to these calamities came, worst of all, war with its indescribable horrors.
At Esopus the hand of industry had been very successfully employed. Quite a crowded population filled the houses, within the palisades, and the rapidly increasing numbers had rendered it necessary to commence another village, which was called Wildwyck, on a fertile plain at a little distance from the fort. Under the blessings of peace, wealth had increased. The church numbered sixty members. Most of the garrison had been withdrawn as no longer needed.
But the Indians could not forget their brethren sent to life-long slavery at Curaçoa. It was increasingly evident that the peace, into which they had entered, was not cordial. It was a compulsory peace. An unendurable outrage had driven them into the war. And by the terms of peace, while they had been compelled to return all the captives they held, fifteen of their warriors were doomed to perpetual slavery.
Murmurings were heard which foreboded an outbreak. Some of the settlers became alarmed and communicated their fears to Governor Stuyvesant. He sent word that he would soon visit Esopus, to investigate the state of affairs. The Indian chiefs, hearing of this, returned the message, that if he were coming to renew their treaty of friendship they should expect him to come unarmed and they would be happy to meet him in council, according to their custom, in the open field outside of the gate.
It was a pleasant morning of the 7th of June. The governor had not yet arrived. The settlers, thrown off their guard by the friendly message which the chiefs had returned, were scattered about in the fields engaged in their daily avocations. Between eleven and twelve o'clock at noon, an unusual number of savages spread themselves through the villages and entered the dwellings. They were apparently, as usual, entirely unarmed, though it afterwards appeared that they had concealed weapons. They brought corn, beans, and other trifling articles for sale.
Suddenly the war-whoop was uttered from one savage throat as a signal, and was instantly re-echoed by a hundred others. Tomahawks and knives and battle-axes gleamed in the air, and the work of extermination was instantly and energetically commenced. The settlers were taken entirely by surprise. Every Indian had marked his man. Neither women nor children were spared. Those who could not easily be captured were struck down. Many of the Indians speedily regained their guns which they had concealed in the grass. Houses were plundered and set on fire.
But the colonists did not submit to their fate without valiant resistance. For several hours the most deadly battle raged. The yells of the savages, and the shrieks of wounded women and children, devoured by the flames which consumed their dwellings, were awful beyond any power of the pen to describe.
Roelof Swartwout was entrusted with the municipal government at Esopus. His office of Schout somewhat resembled that of a mayor in one of our modern cities. He displayed much presence of mind and bravery on this occasion. Rallying a few bold men around him, he at length succeeded in driving the savages from within the palisades and in shutting the gates. Several hours of this awful conflict had now passed. Evening had come. Devastation, ruin, death surrounded them. The outer village was in ashes. The fields were strewn with the bodies of the dead. The half-burned corpses of women and children were to be seen amidst the smoking cinders of their former homes.
The village within the palisades had been set on fire. A few houses had been burned, consuming the mangled remains of those who had fallen beneath the tomahawk and battle-axe of the Indian. Fortunately a change of the wind had saved most of the village from destruction. Swartwout and his brave little band, protected by the palisades, were able through the loop-holes, to strike down any Indian, who should appear within reach of their bullets. They were now safe.
But this awful storm of war, which had passed over their beautiful valley had, in three short hours of a summer's afternoon, converted the whole scene into a spectacle of almost unearthly misery. Every dwelling outside of the palisades was in ashes. Several within the enclosure were consumed, and the charred bodies of the dead were intermingled with the blackened timbers. Twenty-one of the settlers had been killed outright. Nine were severely wounded. Forty-five, mostly women and children, were taken captive, to be carried into bondage more dreadful than death.
A night of woe ensued, during which the yells of the savages, in their triumphal orgies dancing around their captives, and probably exposing some to the torture, fell appallingly upon the ears of the sleepless survivors within the gates. Was this God's allowed retribution for the crime of sending the Indians into slavery? It certainly was the consequence.
The intelligence of this dreadful calamity was immediately transmitted to Governor Stuyvesant at New Amsterdam. Through all the settlements the tidings spread, creating universal panic. Mothers and maidens turned pale as they thought of another Indian war. The farmers and their families, abandoning everything, fled from all directions to the forts within their reach. Every able-bodied man was put to work in strengthening the defences.
The governor promptly dispatched forty-two well-armed men to Esopus. Large bounties were offered to all who would enlist. Forty-six friendly Indians from Long Island offered their services and were accepted as auxiliaries. Ample supplies were forwarded to the devastated village. Scouting parties were sent up the river to search out the savages in their hiding-places. The Mohawks interposed their friendly mediation in behalf of peace, and succeeded in recovering and restoring to the Dutch several captives.
They also informed the governor that the Indians had taken the remaining captives to one of their villages about thirty miles southwest of Esopus, and that they refused to release them unless the governor would send them rich presents and make a peace without any compensation for what had transpired at Esopus. It seems that the Indians regarded the massacre there simply as the just atonement which they had exacted for the enslavement of their brethren, and that now their rude sense of justice being satisfied, they were ready to enter into a solid peace. But the governor was not at all disposed to regard the matter in this light. He deemed it necessary, under the circumstances, that the Indians should feel the full weight of the white man's avenging hand.
Just then a woman, Mrs. Van Imbrock, who had succeeded in effecting her escape from the Indians, reached Esopus, having traversed the wilderness through a thousand perils. She was a woman of great energy, intelligent and observing, and her heart was bleeding in view of the friends she had left behind her in captivity. She was eager to act as a guide to lead a war-party for the rescue of her friends in the retreat of the savages. She estimated their number at about two hundred warriors. They occupied a square fort, very strongly built of timber. And still they adopted the precaution of sending the prisoners every night under strong guard, to some distant place in the mountains. The Indians had a very clear appreciation of the value of their captives as hostages.
Governor Stuyvesant sent a force of two hundred and ten men, under Captain Crygier, to attack them. Forty-one of these were Indians and seven were negroes. They took with them two small cannon, with which at a safe distance, they could soon open a breach through the Indian ramparts, which were merely bullet-proof. A garrison of about seventy men was left behind for the protection of Esopus.
At four o'clock in the afternoon of the 26th of July, this little band commenced its march through the trails of the wilderness, towards the setting sun. The path was a rugged one over high hills and across mountain streams. They had traversed but a few miles when night came on and they bivouacked until daybreak. The next morning they pressed forward with all vigor until they were within about six miles of the fort. One hundred and sixteen men were then sent forward to attack the Indians by surprise, while the remainder prudently followed close after as a reserve.
But the wary Indians, through their scouts, had ascertained the approach of the foe and had fled with their prisoners to the mountains. The Dutch were astonished at the strength of the fort and at the scientific skill with which it was constructed. The Indians had evidently learned not a little of military art from the Europeans. Three parallel rows of palisades enclosed a large square, with loopholes through which unobstructed aim could be taken at assailants. Within the palisades there were strong block-houses, provided also with loopholes, to which houses the warriors could retreat, as to citadels, in case the outer works were taken. Between the houses and the outworks there was a creek. The whole fortress would have been no disgrace to an European engineer.
The party found very comfortable quarters in the fort for the night, and an ample supply of provisions. An Indian woman, not being aware that the white men were in the fort, came back for some article she had left behind. She was taken prisoner and informed her captors of the direction in which the Indians had fled. As it is necessary for such a party of two or three hundred, to keep together and as the trail through meadows, across streamlets and over mountains is narrow, it is not difficult having once found their track to follow it.
It was determined, after a brief consultation, to pursue them. The next morning at daybreak, the pursuit was commenced. Twenty-five men were left to keep possession of the fort. After several hours of very fatiguing travel, they reached the spot, on a high mountain, where the squaw supposed that the Indians had established their camp. But not an Indian was there. They had probably left their spies on the path, who had informed them that the foe was at hand.
The woman now said that they must have gone on to another stronghold they had, at the distance of about six miles. The march was continued through great difficulties. But it was fruitless. Not an Indian was to be found. They had another stronghold about twelve miles farther on. It was possible that they might be found there. But all were fatigued and discouraged, and were disposed to give up the hopeless chase. At one time they caught sight of nine savages in the distance, but they fled like deer.
Captain Crygier, deeming all further attempt to overtake the savages hopeless, decided to return to the Indian fort. Having reached it, all hands engaged in the work of destruction. The savages had collected there a large supply of provisions for the approaching winter. The colonists took all they could carry away with them and destroyed the rest. They then utterly demolished the buildings and palisades, committing all to the flames. The works must have cost the Indians an immensity of labor. There were two hundred acres of corn, waving richly in the summer breeze, giving promise of an abundant harvest. All was trampled down. It was a fearful calamity to the wretched Indians. Probably not a few perished of famine the next winter. There was by no means a sufficient supply of game in the forest to meet their wants. Their main reliance was upon their cornfields.
While they were engaged in this work of destruction four savages appeared upon a hill near some of the colonists, and cried out to them "To-morrow we will come and fight you, for we must all now die of hunger."
The next morning the colonists commenced their return. They showed their respect for the prowess of the savages, by forming their little army in strong military array, with the advance, the centre and the rear guard. At nine o'clock in the evening of August 1st, 1663, they reached their anxious friends at Esopus, without the loss of a man.
Ere long news reached Esopus, that the savages were building another fort, which they called a castle, about thirty-six miles southwest of Esopus, probably near the present town of Mamakating, Sullivan county. An expedition of one hundred and twenty five men, under Captain Crygier, was immediately organized to destroy the works. A young Indian guided the party. Several horses were taken with them to bring back those who might be wounded.
At one o'clock in the afternoon of September third, the party set out from Esopus. A march of nine miles brought them to a creek, which was so swollen by recent rains, that they were delayed for several hours until they could construct a rude bridge across it. In the meantime the rain was falling in torrents. It was not until four o'clock in the afternoon of the next day that the party effected its passage across the stream. They then pressed forward twelve miles farther and bivouacked for the night.
At daybreak they were again upon the move, and about two o'clock in the afternoon emerged from the forest in view of the fort. It stood upon an elevated plain. Like the one we have already described, it consisted of a square enclosure, surrounded by two rows of strong palisades, and a third had already been commenced. These posts, pointed at the top, were firmly planted in the ground, and were of the thickness of a man's body, and rose fifteen feet into the air.
Captain Crygier, after carefully scrutinizing the works, divided his force into two sections for the attack. He was well aware that he had a foe to encounter who would fight with the utmost desperation behind his intrenchments. One party of the assailants crept cautiously along, beneath the covert of a hill, until, coming to the open plain, they were discovered by a squaw, who uttered a terrible cry which roused the whole garrison of Indians.
A sudden onslaught was then made by both parties pouring, like an inundation, through the unfinished works into the fort. The savages, taken by Surprise, and many of them without their arms, were thrown into a panic. Many of them rushed out of the fort, leaving their guns in the houses behind. The Dutch followed close upon their heels, shooting them, and with keen sabres cutting them down. Just beyond the fort there was a creek. The terrified Indians precipitated themselves into it, and by wading and swimming forced their way across. Here they attempted to rally and opened fire upon the pursuing Dutch. The fire was returned with so much vigor that the Indians were driven with loss from their position. The assailants soon crossed the creek, and the discomfited Indians, in hopeless rout, fled wildly into the trackless wilderness.
In the impetuous assault the chief of the tribe, Papoquanchen, was slain, and fourteen of his warriors with four Indian women and three children Twenty-two Christian prisoners were recovered, and fourteen Indians were taken captive. The Dutch lost but three killed and six were wounded. The houses were all plundered by the victors. There was found in them eighty guns, and "bearskins, deerskins, blankets, elk hides and peltries sufficient to load a shallop." Forty rolls of wampum and twenty pounds of powder were also taken. The colonists loaded themselves with such plunder as they could carry. The rest was destroyed.
The return of the victors with the rescued Christian captives, gave great joy at Esopus. We regret to record that, on the march home, there was one of the Indian prisoners, an old man, who refused to go any farther. Captain Crygier had him led a few steps out of the path and shot. In unfeeling terms the captain writes, "We carried him a little aside and then gave him his last meal."
The remainder of the month of September was employed in sending out small scouting parties, and in protecting the farmers while gathering their harvests. Though the Esopus Indians were pretty thoroughly crushed by these disasters which had befallen them, they showed no sign of submission. It was estimated that not more than twenty-eight warriors, with fourteen women and a few children survived. And these were without homes and almost in a state of starvation. Still it was decided to fit out a third expedition against them to effect their utter overthrow.
It was thought most probable that the dispersed Indians would rally again within the fort at Mamakating, which had been captured and sacked but not as yet destroyed. It was perhaps left as a lure to draw the Indians to that point where they could be surrounded and annihilated.
A strong well-armed party of one hundred and sixty-four soldiers set out on this expedition. Forty six of these were friendly Indians from a tribe called Marespincks, whose home was on Long Island. The soldiers were familiar with the route which they had so recently traversed. A weary but rapid march of twenty hours brought them to the scene of their recent victory. Not an Indian was there. All was silence and awful desolation. Even the colonists were appalled by the spectacle which opened before them. The Indians were so thoroughly panic stricken that they had not ventured back even to bury their dead. The decaying corpses lay scattered around, many of them half consumed by vultures and wolves. The birds and beasts, with wild cries, were devouring their prey. Parties were sent out to scour the woods. But no signs of the savages could be found. In fact the Esopus tribe was no more. It was afterwards ascertained that the wretched remnant had fled south and were finally blended and lost among the Minnisincks and other southern tribes.
The fort was so strong that it required not a little labor to destroy it. It was necessary to cut down or dig up the palisades, which were composed of trunks of trees twenty feet long and eighteen inches in diameter. Several cornfields were found in the vicinity wherever an opening in the forest and fertile soil invited the labor of the indolent Indian. Two days were occupied in cutting down the corn, already beautiful in its golden ripeness, and in casting the treasure into the creek. The palisades were then piled around the dwellings and in a few hours nothing remained of the once imposing fortress but smoking embers.
This Indian fort or castle, it is said, stood on the banks of what is now called the Shawangunk kill, in the town of the same name, at the southwestern extremity of Ulster county. It seems as though it were the doom of armies on the march, ever to encounter floods of rain. Scarcely had the troops commenced their return ere the windows of heaven seemed to be opened and the fountains of the great deep to be broken up.
At ten o'clock on the morning of the 5th of October, 1664, the march was commenced. The rain came on like that of Noah's deluge. The short afternoon passed away as, threading ravines and climbing mountains, they breasted the flood and the gale. The drenched host was soon enveloped in the gloom of a long, dark, stormy night. Weary and shelterless, the only couch they could find was the dripping sod, the only canopy, the weeping skies. The weeping skies! yes, nature seemed to weep and mourn over the crimes of a lost race,—over man's inhumanity to man. It was not until the evening of the next day, the rain still continuing, that these weary soldiers reached their home at Esopus.
All but three of the captives carried away by the Esopus Indians, were eventually recovered. The fate of those three is lost in hopeless obscurity. The revelations of the day of Judgment can alone make known their tragic doom. To them, as to thousands of others, this earthly life, if this be all, must have been an unmitigated calamity. But this is not all. After death cometh the judgment. It will be easy for God, in the future world, to compensate his children a thousand-fold for all the ills they are called to suffer in this life. There is true Christian philosophy in the beautiful poetry of Bryant,
Peace was now restored by the annihilation of the hostile Indians. Most of the Dutch soldiers returned to New Amsterdam. Still it was deemed important to enlarge and strengthen the fortifications at Esopus.
The boundary line between the British colonies in New England, and the Dutch settlements in New Netherland, still continued in dispute. The English, in numerical strength, were in the vast ascendency, and could easily overpower the Dutch. Very strenuous efforts had been made, by the States-General, to lead the British government to accept some boundary line. But all was in vain. It was very evident that the English intended to claim the whole. And it was also evident that their colonies were increasing so rapidly that, in a short time, they would be able to take possession of all the territory so strongly that it would be hopeless for the Dutch to attempt any resistance.
Governor Stuyvesant now received intelligence from Holland that there was no hope of any settlement being effected through the two governments, and that he must do everything in his power to strengthen the boundary lines the Dutch claimed, and to enter into such friendly relations with the New England colonists that they should not be tempted to undertake any encroachments. To add to the governor's embarrassments very many Englishmen had taken up their residence in the Dutch settlements, particularly on Long Island. Though they had, of necessity, taken the oath of allegiance to the constituted authorities, their sympathies were with the New England colonists; and they would welcome any revolution which should transfer the territory to Great Britain, and thus absolve them from their oaths.
In accordance with the instructions received from Holland, the governor repaired to Boston to enter into a friendly conference with the authorities there. Scarcely had he left New Amsterdam, when an English emissary, James Christie, visited Gravesend, Flushing, Hempstead and Jamaica, with the announcement that the inhabitants of those places were no longer under the Dutch government, but that their territory was annexed to the Connecticut colony. This important movement took place on the sixth of September, 1663.
Only about six weeks before, the Connecticut council, on the 20th of July, had sent Captain John Talcott with an armed force of eighteen soldiers, to that portion of New Netherland now called West. Chester, to declare that the inhabitants were absolved from their allegiance to the Dutch government, to dismiss the old magistrates and to appoint others in their stead. These were high-handed measures, apparently inexcusable.
When John Christie reached Gravesend, he summoned the whole village together and read to them the dispatch. The British element was there strongly in the ascendency, even the magistrates being mainly on that side. As Christie was reading the treasonable document, one of the Dutch magistrates, sheriff Stillwell, faithful to his oath, arrested him. The other magistrates ordered the arrest of Stillwell. His life was in danger from the passions of the mob. He succeeded in sending word to New Amsterdam of the peril of his condition. A sergeant and eight soldiers were dispatched, who arrested Christie again and held him under their guard.
News of these agitations spread rapidly through the adjoining villages. It was rumored that a large mob was gathering to rescue Christie from the soldiers. Consequently, two hours after midnight, under protection of darkness and without the knowledge of the community, Christie was secretly removed from sheriff Stillwell's house to New Amsterdam. During the next day the tidings of his removal spread through the streets. It created great exasperation. At night a mob of one hundred and fifty men surrounded the house of sheriff Stillwell, shouting that they would have him, dead or alive.
He succeeded in the darkness, in escaping by the back door, and in finding his way to the house of his son-in-law. The mob broke in, ransacked his house in every corner, poured down their own thirsty throats a large quantity of brandy which they found there, and dispersed without committing any further depredations.
Stillwell hastened to New Amsterdam, to enter his complaints there, and to seek protection. The other magistrates wrote, throwing all the blame upon him, accusing him of having acted in a violent manner and of causing "a great hubbub in the town." "We are," they wrote, "the loyal subjects of the Dutch government, but not of sheriff Stillwell, who is the greatest disturber of the peace who ever came among us."
The excitement was great. Threats were uttered of retaliation if Christie were not released. But the Dutch council in New Amsterdam approved of the conduct of its sheriff. Christie was held firmly. Dispatches were sent to all the towns in western Long Island, where there was a considerable English population, ordering that any seditious persons who should visit their settlements, should be arrested and sent to New Amsterdam. They then sent an express to Governor Stuyvesant in Boston, that he might bring the question of these disorderly measures before the General Assembly there.
But the governor could obtain no redress and no promises of amendment. The Massachusetts authorities would not hold themselves bound to the faithful observance of the treaty of 1650. They said that it was subject to his Majesty's approval and to any limitations which might be found in the charter granted to Connecticut. They refused to submit the question to any arbitrators whatever. The New England colonists were conscious that the power was in their own hands, and they were disposed to use it.
In the meantime the English residents in the settlements on western Long Island were not idle. The following very emphatic petition was got up and signed by twenty-six individuals:
"Our humble petition is that, as we are already, according to our best information, under the skirts of your patent, so you would be pleased to cast over us the skirts of your government and protection; for assuredly if you should leave us now, which we hope we have not cause to fear, our lives, comforts and estates will be much endangered, as woful experience makes manifest. For a countryman of ours, for carrying a message to a neighbor plantation, from some of yourselves, has been imprisoned for several weeks, and how long it will be continued we know not."
This last sentence had reference to John Christie. It must be admitted that this was a very mild way of putting the question, when it is remembered that he came, commissioned by the Connecticut authorities, at least so he represented it, to announce to the people in the Dutch settlements, that they were no longer under the Dutch government, but under that of Hartford.
This petition was speedily followed by vigorous measures, which were undoubtedly countenanced, if not authorized, by the Connecticut authorities. One Richard Panton, "whose commission was his sword and whose power his pistol," threatened the people of Flatbush and other Dutch villages in the neighborhood, with the pillage of their property unless they would take the oath of allegiance to the Hartford government and take up arms against the Dutch provincial authorities.
Such were the news which first greeted Governor Stuyvesant when he returned, not a little dispirited, from his unsuccessful mission to Boston. He was fully aware that he could bring forward no physical power which could resist the encroachments of his unscrupulous neighbors. He had no weapon to which he could resort but diplomatic skill. He accordingly immediately sent a deputation of four of his principal men to Hartford, still to make another attempt with the authorities there to settle the boundary question, "so that all further disputes may, for the welfare of our mutual subjects, be prevented."
The commissioners sailed from New Amsterdam and after two days landed at Milford. Thence they took horses and rode to New Haven, where they passed the night. The next day they rode to Hartford. The road through the almost unbroken wilderness was rough and the journey very fatiguing. It took our fathers four days to traverse the space over which we can now easily pass in four hours. The General Assembly at Hartford appointed three persons as a committee of conference to meet the delegation from New Amsterdam. A long negotiation followed. John Winthrop, son of Governor Winthrop of Massachusetts, was then governor of Connecticut. He seems to have been the worthy son of his noble sire. His sense of justice disposed him to respect the claims of the Dutch delegation. He admitted that the patent issued by the king of England could by no justice rob the Dutch of their territory, and that it was not so intended. But the Hartford commissioners were inexorable. "The opinion of the governor," they said,
"But did you not," said the Dutch delegates
The emphatic reply to those questions was,
The Dutch then proposed, by way of compromise, that for the present, Westchester should remain in possession of Connecticut, while the towns on western Long Island should remain under the government of New Netherland. To this the Hartford commissioners replied:
Thus repulsed at every point, the Dutch agents commenced their return. They bore a letter to Stuyvesant from the General Assembly, in which, withholding from him the title of governor of New Netherland, they discourteously addressed him simply as "Director General at Manhattan."
As we have mentioned, there were many English settlers in the Dutch towns on the western end of Long Island. In some of them it is not improbable that the English element predominated. In the letter sent by the General Court to Governor Stuyvesant, it was stated that Westchester and Stamford belonged to Connecticut; that, for the present, the General Court would forbear from exercising any authority over the English plantations on Long Island; but that, should the Dutch molest the English there, the Connecticut authorities would use all just and lawful means for their protection.
The situation of the Dutch province was now alarming in the extreme, and Governor Stuyvesant was environed by difficulties which no mortal sagacity or energy could surmount. His treasury was exhausted. The English settlers in the Long Island villages, were in determined and open revolt. And his English neighbors, whom he was altogether too feeble to resist, were crowding upon him in the most merciless encroachments.
Under these circumstances, he called a Convention, to consist of two delegates from all the neighboring villages, to meet at New Amsterdam on the 22d of October, 1663. Eight towns were represented.
The Convention adopted an earnest remonstrance to the authorities in Holland, in which the disastrous situation of the province was mainly attributed to their withholding that aid which was essential to the maintenance of the colony.
"The people of Connecticut," the remonstrance stated,
Governor Stuyvesant sent with this remonstrance a private letter to the home government, in which he urged that the boundary question should be settled by the national authorities of the two countries. "It is important," he said,
Scarcely were these documents dispatched when new and still more alarming outbreaks occurred. Two Englishmen, Anthony Waters of Hempstead, and John Coe of Middlebury, with an armed force of nearly one hundred men, visited most of what were called the English villages, convoked the people, told them that their country belonged to the king of England, and that they must no longer pay taxes to the Dutch. They removed the magistrates and appointed their own partisans in their stead. They then visited the Dutch towns and threatened them with the severest vengeance if they did not renounce all allegiance to the Dutch authorities, and take the oath of fealty to the king of England.
Only four weeks after this, another party of twenty Englishmen from Gravesend, Flushing and Jamaica, secretly entered Raritan river, in a sloop, and sailing up the river several miles, assembled the chiefs of some of the neighboring tribes, and endeavored to purchase of them a large extent of territory in that region. They knew perfectly well not only that they were within the bounds which had been the undisputed possession of New Netherland for nearly half a century, but that the Dutch had also purchased of the Indians all their title to these lands.
Stuyvesant, being informed of this procedure, promptly sent Ensign Crygier, with an armed force, in a swift sailing yacht, to find the English and thwart their measures. At the same time he sent Hans, a friendly Indian, in whom he could repose confidence, to warn the sachems against selling over again, lands to which they no longer had any title. The Dutch party reached the spot where the Englishmen and the Indians were in council, just in time to stop the sale. The Indians were shrewd enough to know that all they could give was a "quit claim" title, and they were very willing to give that in view of the rich remuneration which was offered them.
The English thus baffled, again took their sloop and sailed down the bay, to a point between Rensselaer's Hook and Sandy Hook, where they were about to renew their endeavors when Ensign Crygier again overtook them. "You are traitors," he exclaimed. "You are acting against the government to which you have taken the oath of fidelity." "This whole country," they replied, "has been given to the English by his Majesty the king of England."
Thus the antagonistic parties separated. The Dutch sloop returned to New Amsterdam. The next day a number of sachems came to New Amsterdam and sold to Governor Stuyvesant the remainder of the lands on the Raritan, which had not previously been transferred to the Dutch.
One John Scott, an Englishman of turbulent character, and a zealous royalist, petitioned king Charles Second to bestow upon him the government of Long Island. In his petition, which was referred to the Council for Foreign Plantations, he said:
In reply to this petition, Scott with two others, was appointed a committee to prepare
Armed with this authority, Scott came to America, where he was very cordially received by the authorities in New Haven. Connecticut invested him with the powers of a magistrate throughout the whole of Long Island, and Governor John Winthrop administered to him the oath of office. Scott entered vigorously upon his work of wresting western Long Island from the dominion of the Dutch, whom he denounced as "cruel and rapacious neighbors who were enslaving the English settlers."
He visited most of the villages, where large numbers of the English resided, but found that there was strong opposition to being annexed to Connecticut. Many of them, particularly the Baptists and the Quakers, were very unwilling to come under the rule of the Puritan government.
Consequently, six of the towns, Hempstead, Gravesend, Flushing, Middlebury, Jamaica and Oyster Bay, formed a combination to govern themselves independently of Connecticut, and empowered Scott to act as their President, until the king of England should establish a permanent government among them. Scott in his pride now unfurled an almost imperial banner. Placing himself at the head of one hundred and seventy armed men, horse and foot, he set out to compel the neighboring Dutch villages to renounce their allegiance to Holland and to subject themselves to his sway.
He first marched upon Brooklyn. Summoning the citizens, he told them that the soil they occupied belonged to the king of England, and that he now claimed it as his own, and that they were consequently absolved from all further allegiance to the Dutch government and were required to take the oath of submission to the new government, now about to be established over them.
Scott was accompanied by so powerful an armed force that the magistrates could not arrest him. One of them, however, Secretary Van Ruyven, invited him to cross the river to New Amsterdam and confer with the governor there. Scott replied, "Let Stuyvesant come here with a hundred men; I will wait for him and run my sword through his body."
There was no disposition manifested whatever, on the part of the people, to renounce the government of their fathers and accept of that of Scott in its stead. There was a little boy standing by, whose proud and defiant bearing arrested the attention of Scott. He was a son of the heroic Crygier, of whom we have before spoken. Scott ordered him to take off his hat and bow to the flag of England. The boy refused. Scott struck him. A bystander scornfully said, "If you have blows to give, you should strike men, not boys."
Four of Scott's soldiers fiercely assailed the man, and though for a moment he defended himself with an axe, he was soon compelled to fly. Scott demanded his surrender and threatened to lay the town in ashes unless he were given up. He was not surrendered, and Scott did not venture to execute his barbarous threat.
From Brooklyn Scott went to Flatbush. He there unfurled the flag of England in front of the house of the sheriff. Curiosity assembled a large concourse to witness what was transpiring. Scott addressed them at much length. "He jabbered away," writes a Dutch historian, "in English, like a mountebank."
"This land," said he,