Wednesday

Wednesday, November 24, 1999 5:31 AM

ESSEX ROOTS NEWSLETTER

SPECIAL THANKSGIVING EDITION

In the summer of 1696, a group of over 50 Essex residents migrated to South Carolina. The following Pageant was developed to commemorate their arrival and introduces the South Carolina audience (many who are descended from this Essex group,) to some detailed Essex and New England history. Waring "Butch" Hills III, a long time Essex Roots/MAEssex list member, has been working on the documentation of this migration for a number of years and this pageant is a small portion of the work that he has done. For those curious about geography, Wappetaw is located 15 miles up the old King's Highway from Mount Pleasant which is on the north side of Charleston harbor.

If you think you may have an ancestor in the Essex group e-mail me and I'll send you the list. It is a tentative list showing town of origin (known or suspected) along with the names of all of the settlers known to be involved.

A Tale of Old Wappetaw

By: Waring W. Hills III

Written for the Tricentennial Celebration of Wappetaw (1699-1999)

Narrator:

Tonight we begin the tale of Old Wappetaw Congregational Church. Just as the roots of the ancient live oaks that surround our church, our church's roots in faith and heritage are deep. The beginnings of our mother church over 300 years ago have been forgotten in the mist of time, but we have recovered enough of the tale to give you a glimpse into the past, a glimpse of Old Wappetaw.

Appropriately enough, the Seewee Indian word, Wappetaw, means "sweet water"...and Christ said, "But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him, shall never thirst." Wappetaw has been a source of sweet water to the inhabitants in and between the Mount Pleasant and McClellanville communities for these three hundred years. Indeed, our congregation has never gone thirsty. In time of war, in time of pestilence, in time of hurricanes, in good and bad times, God has time and again supplied that which was needed to sustain life and to give hope.

Our story begins in New England, where the Pilgrims and Puritans had immigrated during the 1620's and 1630's to build their "City on a Hill." It is here that our Wappetaw families had their beginnings. They lived the early history of New England, which began with a peaceful settling of New England and then turned to a tale of Indian massacres and witchcraft, Wappetaw's settlers were a group of 52 men, women and children tied together by the bonds of family and faith, who traveled from Massachusetts to Carolina in the summer of 1696. Their journey from New England to Carolina ends first in shipwreck, but finally in the amazing grace of God's love.

We have called upon one of the original families to tell you their story. The family of John Whilden is very representative of many New England families. John's ancestors came to Massachusetts in the 1630's with many other Puritan families that fled the looming English Civil War. As a young man, John fought in the first Indian War, King Phillip's War. He married and left Massachusetts in 1680 for land in Maine. He and his wife Mary began to raise a family there, when a devastating Indian war broke out in 1689. Maine was abandoned to the Indians and John's family fled to Massachusetts, where they settled on Capt. Samuel Gardiner's farm in Salem Village. It is in Salem Village, the winter of 1696 that we now find John Whilden.

John:

"This winter chill lies hard upon my bones. Did our forefathers bring us here to die in such a forsaken and heathen land? Six years we have weathered storm after storm here in Salem Village. Life has been hard and now this past Christmas Day...what a present we received with my oldest boy Gershom … dead at twelve years of age.

My grandfather, Gabriel Whilden came to Massachusetts with such promise. He settled at Yarmouth, south of Plymouth, in 1638. A Puritan or non-conformist as the English Anglicans called them, my grandfather came to this New World convinced that God had called our family here. He honored God above all and under God gave everyone his due. Grandfather's first care was to serve God, and therein he did not what was good in his own, but in God's sight. He highly esteemed order in the House of God, but would not under color of that submit to superstitious rites. He was much in prayer, with it he began and closed the day. Grandfather esteemed reading of the word an ordinance of God both in private and public, but did not account reading to be preaching. The word read he esteemed of more authority, but the word preached of more efficiency. He accounted preaching as necessary, God's pleasure being still by the foolishness of preaching to save those that believe. Grandfather esteemed the preaching best wherein was most of God, least of man when vain flourishes of wit and words were declined, and the demonstration of God’s spirit and power studied. He esteemed those sermons best that came closest to the conscience: yet would he have men’s consciences awakened, not their persons disgraced.

His family he endeavored to make a church. Grandfather brought up my father in the nurture and admonition of the Lord and commanded his servants to keep the way of the Lord. He was cautious in promising, but careful in performing, counting his word no less engagement than his bond. Grandfather was a man of tender heart, not only in regard of his own sin, but others misery, not counting mercy arbitrary, but a necessary duty wherein he prayed for wisdom to direct him, so he studied for cheerfulness and bounty to act. His own life he accounted a warfare, wherein Christ was his captain, his arms, prayers, and tears.

Grandfather was immovable in all times, so that they, who in the midst of many opinons had lost the view of true religion, could return to him and find it.

All was well during our family's first days here. It was in my Grandfather’s last years and my first ones that evil began to effect the land. In the winter of 1676 the first of the great Indian wars began, it was called King Phillip's war for the leader of the savages, Phillip or Metacom, he son of Massasoit. Being eighteen years of age, I received instruction in Yarmouth's train band learning to load and discharge fire locks. My father, John Whilden, saw action against the Indians, but I remained with our small garrison at Yarmouth. This cruel war laid waste to half of the English settlements.

In Narraganset not one house left standing. At Warwick, but one. At Providence not above three. At Potuxit, none left. Very few at Seaconicke. At Swansey, two, at most. Marlborough, wholly laid in Ashes, except two or three houses. Grantham and Nashaway, all ruined but one House or two. Many houses burnt at Springfield, Scituate, Lancaster, Brookefield and Northampton. The greatest part of Rehoboth and Taunton destroyed.

At the battle of Sudbury, my father observed an elderly Englishman endeavouing an escape from the indians by running into a swamp. He was overtaken by an Indian, and being Destitute of Weapons to Defend himself or offend him, the Indian insulted over him with that blasphemous expression, "Come Lord Jesus, Save this Englishman if thou canst, whom I am about to kill" Many woeful tales were told, but none touches Mary Rolandson's tale.

Mary Rolandson: "On the tenth of February 1676, came the Indians with great numbers upon Lancaster: their first coming was about sunrising; hearing the noise of some guns, we looked out; several houses were burning, and the smoke ascending to heaven.

At length they came and beset our own house, and quickly it was the dolefulest day that ever mine eyes saw. The house stood upon the edge of a hill; some of the Indians got behind the hill, others into the barn, and others behind anything that could shelter them; from all which places they shot against the house, so that the bullets seemed to fly like haill; and quickly they wounded one man among us, then another, and then a third. About two hours they had been about the house before they prevailed to fire it; they fired it once and one ventured out and quenched it, but they quickly fired it again, and that took.

Now is the dreadful hour come, that I have often heard of, but now mine eyes see it. Some in our house were fighting for their lives, others wallowing in their blood, the house on fire over our heads, and the bloody heathen ready to knock us on the head, if we stirred out. Now might we hear mothers and children crying out for themselves, and one another, "Lord, what shall we do?" Then I took my children and one of my sisters' to go forth and leave the house: but as soon as we came to the door and appeared, the Indians shot so thick that the bullets rattled against the house, as if one had taken an handful of stones and threw them, so that we were fain to give back.

But out we must go, the fire increasing, and coming along behind us, roaring, and the Indians gaping before us with their guns, spears, and hatchets to devour us. No sooner were we out of the house, but my brother-in-law fell down dead, whereat the Indians scornfully shouted, and hallowed, and were presently upon him, stripping off his clothes, the bullets flying thick, one went through my side, and the same through the bowels and hand of my dear child in my arms. One of my elder sisters' children, named William, had then his leg broken, which the Indians perceiving, they knocked him on his head. Thus were we butchered by those merciless heathen, standing amazed, with the blood running down to our heels. My eldest sister being yet in the house, and seeing those woeful sights, the infidels hauling mothers one way, and children another, and some wallowing in their blood: and her elder son telling her that her son William was dead, and myself was wounded, she said, "And Lord, let me die with them,” which was no sooner said, but she was struck with a bullet, and fell down dead over the threshold. Next, the Indians laid hold of us, pulling me one way, and the children another, and said, "Come go along with us"; I told them they would kill me: they answered, if I were willing to go along with them, they would not hurt me.

Oh the doleful sight that now was to behold at this house! "Come, behold the works of the Lord, what desolations he has made in the earth." Of thirty-seven persons who were in this one house, none escaped either present death, or a bitter captivity, save only one, who might say as Job , "And I only am escaped alone to tell the News". There were twelve killed, some shot some stabbed with their spears, some knocked down with their hatchets.

When we are in prosperity, Oh the little that we think of such dreadful sights, and. to see our dear friends, and relations lie bleeding out their heart-blood upon the ground. It is a solemn sight to see so many Christians lying in their blood, some here, and some there, like a company of sheep torn by wolves, all of them stripped naked by a company of hell-hounds, Roaring, singing, ranting, and insulting, as if they would have torn our very hearts out; yet the Lord by His almighty power preserved a number of us from death, for there were twenty four of us taken alive and carried captive.

I had often before this said that if the Indians should come, I should choose rather to be killed by them than taken alive, but when it came to the trial my mind changed; their glittering weapons so daunted my spirit, that I chose rather to go along with those ravenous beasts, than that moment to end my days; and that I may the better declare what happened to me during that grievous captivity.

Now away we must go with those barbarous creatures, with our bodies wounded and bleeding, and our hearts no less than our bodies. All was gone, my husband gone, my children gone, my relations and friends gone, our house and home and all our comforts, all was gone except my life, and I knew not but the next moment that might go too. There remained nothing to me but one poor wounded babe, and it seemed at present worse than death that it was in such a pitiful condition, bespeaking compassion, and I had no refreshing for it, nor suitable things to revive it.

But now, the next morning, I must turn my back upon the town, and travel with them into the vast and desolate wilderness, I knew not whither. But God was with me in a wonderful manner, carrying me along, and bearing up my spirit, that did not quite fail. One of the Indians carried my poor wounded babe upon a horse; it went moaning all along, "I shall die, I shall die." I went on foot after it, with sorrow that cannot be expressed. At length I took it off the horse, and carried it in my arms till my strength failed, and I fell down with it. But the Lord renewed my strength still, and carries me along, that I might see more of His power; yea, so much that I could never have thought of, had I not experienced it.

After this it quickly began to snow, and when night came on, they stopped, and now down I must sit in the snow, by a little fire, and a few boughs behind me, with my sick child in my lap; and calling much for water, being now fallen into a violent fever. My own wound also growing so stiff that I could scarce sit down or rise up; yet so it must be, that I must sit all this cold winter night upon the cold snowy ground, with my sick child in my arms looking that every hour would be the last of its life; and having no end near me, either to comfort or help me. Oh, I may see the wonderful power of God, that my Spirit did not utterly sink under my affliction: still the Lord upheld me with His gracious and merciful spirit, and we were both alive to see the light of the next morning.

The morning being come, they prepared to go on their way. This day in the afternoon, about an hour by sun, we came to the place where they intended, an Indian town, called Wenimesset, northward of Quabaug. When we were come, Oh the number of pagans that there came about me. The next day was the Sabbath. I then remembered how careless I had been of God's holy time; how many Sabbaths I had lost and misspent, and how evilly I had walked in God's sight; which lay so close unto my spirit, that it was easy for me to see how righteous it was with God to cut off the thread of my life and cast me out of His presence forever. Yet the Lord still showed mercy to me, and upheld me and as He wounded me with one hand, so he healed me with the other. I sat much alone with a poor wounded child in my lap, which moaned night and day, having nothing to revive the body, or cheer the spirits of her, but instead of that, sometimes one Indian would come and tell me one hour that "our master will knock your child in the head," and then a second, and then a third, "your master will quickly knock your child in the head."

This was the comfort I had from them, miserable comforters are ye all, as he said. Thus nine days I sat upon my knees, with my babe in my lap, till my flesh was raw again; my child being even ready to depart this sorrowful world, they bade me carry it out to another wigwam whither I went with a very heavy heart, and down I sat with the picture of death in my lap. About two hours in the night, my sweet babe like a lamb departed this life on Feb. 18, 1676. It being about six years, and five months old. It was nine days from her first wounding, in this miserable condition, without any refreshing of one nature or other, except a little cold water. I cannot but take notice how at another time I could not bear to be in the room where any dead person was, but now the case is changed; I must and could lie down by my dead babe, side by side all the night after. I have thought since of the wonderful goodness of God to me in preserving me in the use of my reason and senses in that distressed time, that I did not use wicked and violent means to end my own miserable life. In the morning, when they understood that my child was dead they sent for me home to my masters wigwam. I went to take up my dead child in my arms to carry it with me, but they bid me let it alone; there was no resisting, but go I must and leave it. When I had been at my masters wigwam, I took the first opportunity I could get to go look after my dead child. When I came I asked them what they had done with it; then they told me it was upon the hill. Then they went and showed me where it was, where I saw the ground was newly digged, and there they told me they had buried it. There I left that child in the wilderness, and must commit it, and myself also in this wilderness condition, to Him who is above all."

The torment of this war left our colony battered, impoverished, our bravest men dead, our newest towns destroyed, and our faith in God's grace badly shaken. All the cruelties the foes devised would fill a volume. And now my friend, let this scene end, lest I shall let some tears fall. Let us turn our face from this scene and not look back.

The darkness and fear began to clear away and we began to live again. God restored hope and a future to me with my marriage to Mary Folland in 1679. The land in Yarmouth being of poor quality and of course, there was none available for a young man to acquire, so I joined with the Danforth expedition to Maine in 1680. Mary and I chose a grant of land at Back Cove, south of Falmouth and north of Cape Ann. All was well in our new home. God blessed us with our first child, a boy, Gershom, in October 1681. Our other children followed, John, Mary, and Jonathan. They were baptized by our good minister, Reverend George Burroughs. We prospered, but dark clouds and evil deeds beg.an to be stirred by the French in Canada. They armed and encouraged the Abenaki Indians, who attacked in the summer of 1689. King William's War had begun. We fled to Falmouth that summer. Providentially, we had warning and with God^'s care made it to the fort. Some of our neighbors were not so lucky...

John Lane and his entire family were killed at their home on Lane's Island. His son in law, John Langsford was killed on the beach at Owl's Head.

At Falmouth, the fight was fierce. We were led by Rev. George Burroughs. In his spiritual and physical strength, he was a man among men. He could hold, aim and fire a firelock with one hand. Finally, after two of the three forts at Falmouth were destroyed with the loss of all lives, we sailed to Massachusetts. I turned my face from that scene and did not look back.

We arrived at Salem in the fall of 1689. I rented the farm of a Capt. Samuel Gardiner from his family. It was located in Salem Village and had been unocupied for 14 years as Capt. Gardiner had been killed in King Phillips War. The horrors of the past year began to recede as we lived peacefully, but the tales of Indian massacres continued to haunt us as other refugees from Maine and New Hampshire passed through Salem Village on the way to refuge.

Salem Village was a growing community. They had just hired a new minister, Reverend Samuel Parris, when we arrived. Our wounds from Maine had finally healed, when in the winter of 1692, the witchcraft craze started. Many women and men were accused of witchcraft, some were poor wretches, some were church members and one was even a minister of the gospel. In fact, it was our former minister, Rev. George Burroughs. He was accused of witchcraft and brought from Maine to Salem for trial. Unfortunately, I was called to testify to his great physical strength, but not asked of his spiritual strength that fortified the people of Maine in their struggles with the savages. My next door neighbor, Giles Corey, was also accused. The poor old man would not utter a word to the court and so was adjudged to "peine forte et dure." As stones were stacked on his chest, he uttered his final words, "More weight."

I would sooner bite my fingers' ends than willingly cast dirt on authority, or any way offer reproach to it...However, sir, I never thought judges infallible. As to the late executions, I shall only tell you, that in the opinion of many unprejudiced, considerate and considerable spectators, some of the condemned went out of the world not only with as great protestations, but also with as good shows of innocence, as men and women could do. Rev. Burroughs prayed for his accusers and ended with the Lord's Prayer spoken flawlessly, before he was hung.

I cannot but be amazed that these persons claiming to be afflicted by witchcraft Should be so much countenanced and encouraged in their accusations as they are...It is worthy of our deepest consideration, that in the conclusion these afflicted persons should own that all was a mere fancy and delusion of the Devil's...if, I say, in after times this be acknowledged by them, how can the judges or anyone else concerned in these matters, look back upon these things without the greatest of sorrow and grief imaginable? I confess to you, it makes me tremble when I seriously consider of this thing...

But altho' the Chief Judge, and some other of the judges, be very zealous in these proceedings, yet this you make take for a truth, that there are several about the Bay, men for understanding, judgement and piety inferior to few in New England that do utterly condemn the proceedings and do freely deliver their judgement that these methods will utterly ruin and undo poor New England.

I am very apt to think, that did you know the circumstances of the said confessors you would not be swayed thereby, any otherwise than to be confirmed that all is perfect Devilism, and a Hellish design to ruin and destroy this poor land...What will be the issue of these troubles, God only knows; I am afraid ages will not wear off that reproach and those stains which these things will leave behind them upon our land.

The witchcraft craze left our village divided and demoralized. With the death of my boy Gershom, the storms had destroyed my faith in New England. The Indian wars continued, were there more witches to come. Must my children grow up in this land? Let us turn our face from this scene and do not look back.

The following summer of 1696 we joined with a group of 52 fellow New Englanders to sail for Carolina. We had heard that the land there is bounteous, the weather warmer, no Indian wars, no witches...I believe that God has a home there for my family and land for my children to settle.

We departed late summer 1696 and made good time onboard our ship. After six days at sea, we met with a sudden hurricane which drove us onshore near Cape Fear. All of us made it ashore except for one small child. No sooner had we settled ourselves than indians appeared. Our hope left us. We prepared to defend ourselves as best we could, but expected to depart this world soon We called upon God in our despair to save us and our children.

Thanksgiving at Wappetaw

As we awaited the expected Indian attack, the unexpected happened. The Indians made sign language of friendship. Unbeknownst to us, the Indians had signed a treaty of friendship with the Governor of Carolina and agree to give help to any Englishmen that may be shipwrecked along their coast. They helped several of us travel overland to Charles Towne, where we applied to Governor Archdale for help. He sent a ship to bring us to our new home here at Wappetaw.

We are well settled in our new home. The land is bountiful in fish and game. We are at peace among ur neighbors and the world. My children have fewer nightmares of Indians and witches.

Finally at the end of our long journey to our new home at Wappetaw, I looked back to New England. I saw behind me those who had gone, and before me those who are to come. I looked back and saw my father and his father and all our fathers, and in front to see my son and his son, and the sons beyond. And their eyes were my eyes. As I felt so they had felt, and were to feel, as then, so now, as tomorrow and forever. Then I was not afraid, for I was in a long line that had no beginning and no end. And the hand of his father grasped my father's hand and his hand was in mine, and my son took my right hand and all, up and down the line that stretched from time that was to Time that is and is not yet, raised their hands to show the link. And we found that we were one, born of Woman, Son of Man, made in the image, fashioned in the womb by the Will of God, the Eternal Father.