JOHN MASON
John
Mason,
c.1600-1672, was an American colonial military commander, born in England.
He was an army officer before emigrating (c.1630) to Massachusetts and
then (1635) to Windsor, Conn. When the Pequot threatened to wipe out
the new colonies on the Connecticut River, he and John Underhill led
an expedition (1637) against them with the aid of other Native Americans
under Uncas and Miantonomo and virtually destroyed the tribe. After
this campaign--generally called the Pequot War--Major Mason was a distinguished
political leader in Connecticut until his death.
In 1637 there were in the colonies two brave soldiers who had served
in the Netherlands. These were Captains John Mason and John Underhill.
The former had taken an active part in military and civil affairs in
Massachusetts, and was now in Connecticut. The latter was an eccentric
character, and might have been mistaken at one time for a friar and
at another for a buffoon. He had been brought to Massachusetts by Governor
Winthrop to teach the young colonists military tactics, which it was
evident they would need. Under him the authorities of that colony and
Plymouth placed two hundred men to aid the Connecticut people in their
war.
It was not safe for the settlers in the valley to wait for their allies
on the sea-coast. They placed ninety men under Mason, who rendezvoused
at Hartford. With twenty of them, the captain hastened to reinforce
the garrison at Saybrook. There he found Underhill, who had just arrived
with an equal with these and seventy warriors of the Mohegans under
Uncas, he marched down to the fort. Uncas was of the royal blood of
the Pequods, and had been a petty chief under Sassacus, but was now
in open rebellion against his prince, and a fugitive. He gladly joined
the English against his enemy, and Captain Mason as gladly accepted
his services. As the war was begun by the Connecticut people, Captain
Mason was regarded and obeyed as the commander-in-chief of the expedition.
It was determined in council to go into the Narraganset country and
march upon the rear of the Pequods, where they would least expect an
attack. In three pinnaces the expedition sailed eastward. As they passed
the Pequod country, those savages concluded that the English had abandoned
the Connecticut Valley in despair. It was a fatal mistake and the relaxation
which that belief caused ruined them. They had no spies out beyond the
Mystic River; and when the expedition landed near Narraganset Bay, Sassacus
was rejoicing in a sense of absolute security from harm. So he continued
to rejoice while the white people, joined by two hundred Narragansets
and as many Niantics - more than five hundred warriors in all, pale
and dusky - were marching swiftly and stealthily toward the citadel
of his power.
That chief stronghold of Sassacus was on a hill a few miles northward
from both New London and Stonington, near the waters of the Mystic River.
It was a fort built of palisades, the trunks of trees set firmly in
the ground close together, and rising above it ten or twelve feet, with
sharpened points. Within this enclosure, which was of circular form,
were seventy wigwams covered with matting and thatch and at two points
were sallyports or gates of weaker construction, through which Mason
and Underhill were destined to force an entrance. When the invaders
reached the foot of the hill on which this fort stood, quite undiscovered,
and arranged their camp, the sentinels could hear the sounds of noisy
revelry among the savages in the fortress, which ceased not before midnight.
Then all was still, and the invaders slumbered soundly. At two hours
before the dawn on a warm June morning, they were aroused from sleep
and arranged in marching order so as to break into the fort at opposite
points and take it by surprise. The Indian allies had grown weak in
heart, all but the followers of Uncas. They regarded Sassacus as a sort
of god, and supposed he was in the fort. So they lagged behind, but
formed a cordon in the woods around the fortress to arrest any fugitives
who might escape.

In the bright moonlight the little army crept stealthily up the wooded
slope, and were on the point of rushing to the attack when the barking
of a dog aroused a sentinel and he gave the alarm to the sound sleepers
within. Before they were fairly awake, Mason and Underhill burst in
the sallyports. The terrified Pequods rushed out of the wigwams, but
were driven back by swords and musket-balls, when the tinder-like coverings
of the huts were set on fire. Within an hour about seven hundred men,
women and children perished in the flames, and by the weapons of the
English. The strong, the beautiful, and the innocent were doomed to
a common fate with the blood-thirsty and cruel. The door of mercy was
shut. Not a dusky human being among the Pequods was allowed to live.
When all was over, the pious Captain Mason, who had narrowly escaped
death by the arrow of a young warrior, exultingly exclaimed God is over
us He laughs his enemies to scorn, making them as a fiery oven. Thus
does the Lord judge among the heathen, filling the place with dead bodies.
And the equally if not more pious Dr. Mather afterward wrote: "It
was supposed that no less than 500 or 600 Pequod souls were brought
down to hell that day." Happily a better Christian spirit now prevails.
Sassacus was not in the doomed fort, but was at another near Groton,
on the Thames, to which point Mason had ordered his vessels to come.
As the English were making their wearisome way to the river, three hundred
warriors came from the presence of Sassacus to attack them. The savages
were soon dispersed. Most of the victors then sailed for the Connecticut,
making the air vocal with sacred song. The remainder, with friendly
Indians, marched through the wilderness to Hartford to protect the settlements
in that vicinity. There warriors and clergymen, Christians and pagans,
women and children, gathered in a happy reunion after great peril.
Sassacus sate sullenly and stately in his embowered dwelling, when the
remnant of his warriors, who escaped from the citadel, came to tell
him of the great disaster. They charged the whole of the misfortunes
of the day to his haughtiness and misconduct. Tearing their hair, stamping
violently, and with fierce gestures, they threatened to destroy him,
and doubtless they would have executed the menace had not the blast
of a trumpet startled them. From the head-waters of the Mystic came
almost two hundred armed settlers from Massachusetts and Plymouth to
seal the doom of the Pequods. The question, Shall we fight or flee?
was soon answered at the court of Sassacus, for there was little time
for deliberation. After a strong and hot debate, it was determined to
flee. They set fire to their wigwams and the fort, and with their women
and children hurried across the Thames and fled swiftly westward, with
the intention of seeking refuge with the Mohawks beyond the Hudson.
The English hotly pursued the Pequods, with despairing Sassacus at their
head. As the chase was kept up across the beautiful country bordering
on Long Island Sound, a track of desolation was left behind, for wigwams
and corn-fields
were destroyed, and helpless men, women and children were put to the
sword. At last the fugitives took refuge in Sasco Swamp, near Fairfield,
where they all surrendered to the English excepting the sachem and a
few followers, who escaped to the Mohawks. A blow had been struck which
gave peace to New England forty years. A nation had been destroyed in
a day. But few of the once-powerful Pequods survived the national disaster.
The last representative of the pure blood of that race was, probably,
Eunice Mauwee, who died at Kent, in Connecticut, about the year 860,
at the age of one hundred years. The proud Sassacus, haughty and insolent
in his exile, fell by the hands of an assassin among the people who
had opened their arms to receive him; and his scalp was sent to the
English, whom he hated and despised. He was the last of his royal line
in power excepting Uncas, who now returned to the land of his fathers
and became a powerful sachem, renowned in war and peace. He remained
a firm friend of the English, and was buried among the graves of his
kindred near the falls of the Yantic, in the City of Norwich,
where a granite monument, erected by the descendants of his white friends,
marks the place of his sepulchre.
- - - L. B. Mason (1935)
"The greatness and the violence of the fire... the shrieks
and yells of men
and women and children....It was a fearful sight to see them frying
in the fire and the streams of blood quenching the same."
- - - Clergyman Cotton Mather, describing the destruction of Pequot
- - - - - - - - - - -
As
early as the the 1630's during the Pequot War in New England, temporary
detachments were drawn from the militia companies for field operations
against the Indians. Volunteers or drafted quotas formed the detachments.
This expedient practice minimized economic dislocation and concentrated
field leadership in the hands of the most experienced officers. But
even the detachments were seen as disrupting continuity life too much,
and eventually they were employed primarily as garrisons. A different
type of force emerged in the 1670's. Hired volunteers ranged the frontiers,
patrolling between outposts and giving early warning of any Indian attack.
Other volunteers combined with friendly Indians for offensive operations
deep in the wilderness where European tactics were ineffective. The
memoirs of the most successful leader of these mixed forces, Benjamin
Church, were published by his son Thomas in 1716 and represent the first
American military manual.
1637
Bibliography
1637 Links