rude works of the natives frowned defiance, it was ru-
mored through the tribe, that its enemies had vanished through fear.
Exultation followed; and hundreds of the Pequods spent much of the last night of their lives in revelry, at a time when the sentinels of the English
were within hearing of their songs.
Two hours be-
fore day, the soldiers of Connecticut
put themselves in motion towards the enemy; and, as the light of morning began to dawn, they made their attack on the principal fort, which stood in a strong position at the summit of a hill.1
The colonists felt that they were fighting for the security of their homes; that, if defeated, the war-whoop would immediately resound near their cottages, and their wives and children be abandoned to the scalping-knife and the tomahawk.
They ascend to the attack; a watch-dog bays an alarm at their approach; the Indians awake, rally, and resist, as well as bows and arrows can resist weapons of steel.
The superiority of number was with them; and fighting closely, hand to hand, though the massa cre spread from wigwam to wigwam, victory was tardy.
‘We must burn them!’
, and cast a firebrand to the windward among the light mats of the Indian
Hardly could the English
withdraw to encompass the place, before the whole encampment was in a blaze.
Did the helpless natives climb the palisades, the flames assisted the marksmen to take good aim at the unprotected men; did they attempt a sally, they were cut down by the English
The carnage was complete: about six hundred Indians
, men, women, and children, perished; most of them in the hideous conflagration.