Chapter 11: 1635-1657, The New Haven Puritans

William and Philippa Mead left their home in Watford, boarded the ship Elizabeth and arrived at Boston in the spring of 1635. From there, they traveled to Wethersfield in the Connecticut Colony and promptly joined the other saints of the Church of Christ there.

2 William was forty-three years old at the time, and he and Philippa were feeling a little apprehensive about starting over at such an advanced age in such a wild place. Even so, their conviction that they were among God’s people, that He was directing their efforts, and that He had chosen all of them to build His kingdom in this wilderness would sustain them.

3 “The saints have purged the church here of its papal trappings,” William told her. “Kings and bishops have not been able to enforce their pagan practices in this land,” he continued. “God’s people here are united and unwavering in their righteousness and dedication to reform God’s Church and make it Holy again.”

4 The saints at Wethersfield, however, were not united in mind or spirit. The majority of the congregation believed that the Sabbath (Sunday) should be celebrated by the entire community assembled at Church from early in the morning to late in the afternoon. Nevertheless, there was not an insignificant number of saints who thought that the formal worship service should conclude around noon, and that the remainder of the day should be spent in quiet contemplation and prayer at home.

5 Like most of the Puritan churches of New England, the Wethersfield congregation met in a very plain building. The interior walls were white and free of any decorations. The pews were bare wood and very uncomfortable. The pulpit was the focus of the entire room, and everyone’s attention was expected to be focused there during the worship service. Moreover, if anyone failed to focus on the sermons and prayers, the deacons (or the minister) were not afraid to point out their failure after service.

6 Hence, it did not take long until the two sides in the controversy over the length of the formal Sabbath observance came to a head. In fact, the situation had reached such serious proportions that the Reverend John Davenport of New Haven visited the congregation and attempted to mediate the dispute.

7 “We cannot comprehend why anyone would be opposed to worshipping the Lord for the whole of the Sabbath!” William declared. “No one has suggested any other use for the Sabbath,” another man rebutted. “Some of us, however, feel that a portion of the day should be reserved for the solitude of prayer and reading within our own homes!”

8 Seeing that neither side was likely to give an inch on the matter, Reverend Davenport suggested that the congregation come to an amicable parting of the ways. “It is my judgment that it would be in the best interest of everyone for you to divide into two congregations, so that you do not hinder one another’s worship or erect a stumbling block for your brother,” he concluded.

9 In the meeting that followed, it was determined that the advocates of the lengthy Sabbath service would leave Wethersfield and found a new community and church elsewhere in the colony. “Our Captain Turner has just purchased a large tract of land from the savages,” Reverend Davenport suggested. “I am sure New Haven would be open to discussing terms for these lands with your representatives.” The hardliners jumped at the offer.

10 The transaction was completed by the fall of 1640, and the saints immediately set about the task of laying out the new town of Stamford. William and Philippa received a lot of five acres the following year and began the task of staring over yet again.

11 “We are old and weary,” Philippa told her husband. “I hope that this will be the last time we are uprooted and have to begin again.” “A-men to that!” William agreed.

12 Although the work was hard, with the help of their friends and neighbors, the Meads soon had a simple frame house on their land and were raising potatoes and other vegetables in a large garden beside it. Before long, they had even acquired another cow and added more chickens to the stock which they had brought with them from Wethersfield. Thus, although they were not as prosperous as some of their neighbors, they managed to sustain themselves and their small family.

13 Their daughter Martha was a kind, quiet and hard-working girl, and William and Philippa loved her very much. Unfortunately, however, Martha was troubled with a strange malady that no one really understood. She had what they called “fits” and suffered peculiar changes in behavior whenever one of them came over her.

14 “The poor girl is possessed by a deaf and dumb spirit,” the neighbors whispered to each other. “Satan has the poor child in his grasp!”

15 Martha didn’t understand her affliction any better than their neighbors, but she didn’t think that it had anything to do with the devil. A strange feeling would come over her at times, and she knew that she was about to have one of the fits. Her vision would get blurry, and she was able to hear and smell things that she would normally be unable to detect. She would often get lightheaded, and there would be a fluttering sensation in her stomach. And then it would happen. Martha would suffer a blackout – a complete loss of consciousness, without any memory of what had happened during that period when she awoke.

16 Even so, Martha managed to hold down a job as a domestic servant in one of their wealthier neighbor’s home. She cooked and cleaned for them and managed to find enough time on the side to permit the attentions of a young man named John Richardson.

17 To be sure, it was a very proper Puritan courtship - there was no touching or alone time. Nevertheless, in spite of all of the strictures on their activities, the two managed to fall in love and resolved to talk to Martha’s parents as soon as possible about marriage. However, they were soon to learn that the road to that event would not be a straight one.

18 Early in the year 1653, Martha was busy at work when she felt the approach of one of her fits. She had just folded some linens when she began to swoon. She could see someone running toward her, and then there was nothing.

19 She came to in a bed and noticed Joseph Garnet standing in the corner of the room. “Are you feeling better?” he asked. “I – I’m not sure,” she replied.

20 There was a wet, sticky feeling between her legs, and a soreness there which she had never experienced before that day. She felt queasy and weak, but she also felt the need to get up out of that bed and go home. As she swung her feet over onto the floor, Joseph rushed over to the bed, grabbed her arm and helped to steady her as she stood up.

21 Just then, the lady of the house entered the room. “Joseph, you should not be in here with Martha,” she scolded. “I will help her,” she said as she took Martha’s other arm. “Mr. Ross and I were only trying to help,” he sheepishly offered in his defense and then retreated.

22 About a month later, John finally summoned enough courage to talk to William about his daughter. “I would very much like to have your blessing to marry Martha,” he blurted out before he had even taken a seat before the fireplace.

23 “I see,” William began. “I cannot say that this comes as a surprise to us,” he continued. John began to squirm as he took his seat. “We would be honored to have you as our son,” William smiled.

24 “Thank you, sir!” John almost shouted. William laughed, and the young man finally relaxed into his chair.

25 As the wedding day approached, however, Martha had been having morning sickness and she had already missed two periods. “You are with child,” her mother told her.

26 “That cannot be!” Martha replied in astonishment. “Have you and John been together?” Philippa demanded. “Never!” Martha cried with as much indignation as she could muster and began weeping.

27 When she regained her composure, she told her mother about what had happened that day at work. “I don’t remember anything, but something must have happened,” Martha insisted.

28 “Dearest child, we will talk to your father and John and see what they have to say,” Philippa told her. “Must we?” her daughter pleaded. “This is not something that we will be able to hide from them, and they must know what happened,” Philippa insisted.

29 Fortunately, after hearing the story, both men offered their support to Martha. John and Martha were quietly married and then moved to Roxbury in the Massachusetts Bay Colony to prevent the gossip that would most assuredly ensue in Stamford.

30 While living there, the baby was born and had died within a month. Martha was inconsolable. John took her in his arms and comforted her. “It’s time to go home,” he told her.

31 However, within a few months of returning, a nasty rumor about what had happened had spread across Stamford. “I have heard that Martha Richardson was with child when she married John, and that they moved away to keep their secret and get rid of the baby,” Goodwife Buxton whispered to her neighbor, Sarah Scofield. “I hope that is not true,” Goodwife Scofield replied. “The Meads are fine people and good friends of ours.”

32 Unfortunately, the rumor was close enough to the truth and couldn’t be answered or explained without creating an awkward moment for everyone concerned and revealing other embarrassing information. Thus, by September of 1654, news had reached the colonial capital at New Haven, and a date was set for the Court of Magistrates to look into the matter.

33 Governor Theophilus Eaton and Deputy Governor Stephen Goodyear presided over the court. There were four other magistrates on the dais that day.

34 “Martha Mead, now the wife of John Richardson of Stamford, you are charged with fornication and being with child at the time of your marriage,” Governor Eaton began. “We are also here today to inquire about the manner of that child’s death after living about a month,” he continued. “That we might know the truth of the matter, the court calls John Richardson to testify.”

35 After he was sworn to tell the truth, one of the other magistrates began questioning him. “When did you marry this woman, and when was the child born?” he demanded.

36 “We married in July of last year, and the baby was born in January,” John answered. This was followed by several questions and answers in quick succession.

37 “When did the child die?” “A little over a month later.”

38 “Did you father the child?” “No.”

39 “You were, however, aware that she was with child?” “Yes.”

40 “And you deliberately misled everyone about these facts?” “I wanted to spare her the shame.” John was visibly shaken when he returned to his seat.

41 “The court calls Martha Richardson to testify,” another magistrate announced. “Were you with child before you were married to John Richardson?” he asked. “Yes, but I did not commit fornication.”

42 “Then how do you explain the fact that you were with child?” he demanded. “I had swooned while I was working at my master’s house in Stamford, and someone took advantage of me while I was insensible.”

43 “Are you asking us to believe that you have no memory of your wicked behavior?” he pressed. “I can only tell you that I did not willingly fornicate with any man,” she insisted.

44 “What became of the child?” “My poor little girl went to sleep one night and never awoke,” Martha sobbed. When she had finished her testimony, the magistrates heard from several members of the community who testified about Martha’s “fits.”

45 After discussing the matter amongst themselves, the magistrates prepared to announce their decision. “The court finds Martha Richardson guilty of fornication and lying without ceasing, and she deserves a public whipping,” Governor Eaton pronounced. “However, in consideration of the fact that she is now great with child, the court orders a fine of ten pounds for her wicked behavior - to be paid within the year,” he finished.

46 The court eventually accepted two cows from her husband and brother as payment for the fine. Martha’s brother, however, had problems of his own.

47 John Mead had a temper, and he did not like Quakers. “We should live at peace with all men and listen to the voice of Christ within us,” the young Quaker had admonished him after John had threatened to toss him into the river.

48 “You child of the Devil!” John bellowed. He then took a run at the astonished Quaker and shoved him into the Mianus River.

49 “You are not permitted to take the law into your own hands and throw someone into the River!” Constable Richard Law reprimanded him. “Are you in league with Satan?” John demanded. “You must be one of them! Have you adopted this heresy?” he persisted. “John, I am arresting you for bearing false witness and making slanderous accusations against one of God’s own servants,” Law replied.

50 The court agreed with the constable. “We cannot recall having met with such a case since this court was convened,” the presiding officer began. “It is evident to us that you are full of malice and bitterness, John Mead, and are deserving of severe censure and punishment by this court.”

51 When the proceedings had concluded, and John had made arrangements to pay his fines, his father took him aside and admonished him to be more circumspect in the future. “A good reputation is a precious thing, and it is hard to repair that when it has been damaged,” William told him.

Chapter 10: 1635-1655, From Cambridge to Ipswich and Long Island

Edward Ketcham had married Mary Hall at the Church of Saint Andrew the Great (in the County of Cambridge, in the realm of England) on August 22, 1619. Over the years that followed, his children (Mary, John, Hester and Anna) were all christened in that same church. To be sure, there was a familiarity and sense of continuity about life there that had the effect of lulling one into a comfortable rut.

2 Even so, like many of his countrymen, Edward had heard about the possibility of a new life in England’s colonies in America. “There is nothing for us here,” he told Mary. “But our home is here, and there is so much danger and uncertainty in that place,” she protested.

3 Edward’s restlessness, however, won out in the end. The young family settled at Ipswich in the Massachusetts Bay Colony in 1635. The settlement was less than two years old when they arrived, and there was enough hard work and sacrifice to keep everyone preoccupied for years. There was, however, too much of both for Mary. She was dead within two years.

4 “I cannot stay in this place,” Edward confided to a friend. “Mary and I were going to build a new life for ourselves and our children here,” he continued. “It is no good without her.” “The whole land is before you - your children need a mother and you need a wife,” his friend pointed out.

5 Edward took his friend’s advice. He collected his children and what few belongings he had and moved to Long Island. He had also remarried within the year.

6 Now these are the generations of Edward Ketcham:

7 Edward was the father of John, Sarah, Rebecca and others.

8 John Ketcham married Bethia Richardson, the daughter of John Richardson and Martha Mead. They were the ancestors of Edward Ketcham.

9 Sarah Ketcham married Joseph Whitman, and they were the ancestors of Walt Whitman and Warren Buffett.

10 Rebecca Ketcham married Thomas Taylor, and they were the ancestors of William Tecumseh Sherman.

11 Edward Ketcham begat Peter, Elizabeth and other children.

12 Peter Ketcham was the forefather of Green Berry, Samuel and Thomas.

13 Elizabeth Ketcham married Edmond McAnally, and they had twelve children together.

Chapter 9: 1632-1660, Puritans and Quakers

John Howland’s brothers, Henry and Arthur, arrived at Plymouth in 1632. “Did you really think that we would let you keep this paradise all to yourself?” Henry shouted as they stepped off the ship which had carried them across the Atlantic. John smiled and embraced his brothers. Then he helped them with their baggage and directed them toward his house.

2 The house was sided with clapboards to protect its inhabitants against the elements and was covered with a thatch roof that had been woven together from grasses and reeds harvested from the local marshes. Like the other houses of the time, it was a frame house with the timbers still visible among the clay plaster of the interior. Although it was small, the interior appeared to be very clean and well-furnished.

3 As they entered the house, they noticed a large stone fireplace at one end of the room. A thin but sturdy looking woman was standing beside it with a baby in her arms.

4 “This is my wife, Elizabeth,” John began. “It is so good to finally meet you, sister,” Arthur offered as he moved to embrace her. “Yes, we have heard so much about you,” Henry agreed as he patted the baby on her head.

5 “Welcome to our home, brothers,” Elizabeth smiled. “We hope that you will be comfortable here until you are able to establish a place of your own.” “Thank you,” they returned together. Then everyone chuckled nervously, unloaded their burdens and began the task of adjusting to each other and their new living arrangements.

6 Within a few years, Henry was well established at Duxbury. In 1635, he was made a constable for Duxbury. He lived along the bay and was soon considered to be one of the leading citizens in his community. The following year, he was appointed to serve on a committee with Edward Winslow and Philip Delaney to determine how the hay grounds would be used by the settlers.

7 In 1640, he purchased five acres of upland and one acre of marshland for twelve bushels of Indian corn. He also served as Surveyor of Highways and on the Grand Inquest.

8 It wasn’t long, however, until Henry started having problems with the colony’s Puritan rulers. The difficulties began as a consequence of his flirtation with the Quaker religion. Over the years, Henry became convinced that the group’s teachings were the purest expression of ancient Christianity.

9 Like them, he came to believe that no human intermediaries were necessary in his relationship with God. “The Spirit of Christ within each individual will direct that person into a right relationship with the Almighty,” he declared. As a consequence, he began inviting members of the society into his home and allowing them to witness there.

10 Then, in June of 1657, he informed colonial officials that: “I will not make any oaths, and I will not serve on a grand jury.” Shortly thereafter, he was required to pay five pounds and/or receive a whipping for “entertaining” Quakers. In October of that same year, he was called to appear before the court to answer another charge of entertaining Quakers in his home.

11 Two years later, Henry and his brother-in-law were summoned once again to appear before the court. “You are charged with abetting and entertaining Quakers,” the magistrate informed them.

12 “We must follow the dictates of our own conscience in this regard,” he protested. “Your freedom is hereby voided, and you are forever disenfranchised from fully participating in this community,” the court ruled.

13 The following year, Henry was fined twice for permitting a Quaker meeting in his home. He refused to pay the fines and his house and lands were confiscated by the marshal.

14 In the meantime, Arthur had established himself at Marshfield. In 1647, William Partridge sold 300 acres of land to Arthur, and he appeared to be on his way to becoming one of the outstanding citizens of that area.

15 Arthur, however, proved to be just as susceptible to the Quaker’s doctrines as his brother had been. As a consequence, fate and his new faith intervened.

16 In December of 1657, Constable John Phillips was dispatched to his house to break up a meeting of the Quakers. “Phillips has been informed of this meeting, and he is on his way this very minute to put an end to it,” one of his neighbors informed him. A few minutes later, the constable knocked on his door, but there was no answer – the house was empty.

17 The following day, the constable was knocking on Arthur’s door again. “I have an arrest warrant for you and Robert Huchin,” Phillips announced. “You will not take me or Robert Huchin from these grounds,” Arthur assured him.

18 At that, the constable returned to the village for reinforcements. However, when he returned, Robert Huchin was gone; but he proceeded to arrest Arthur anyway.

19 Arthur refused to post bond when he was imprisoned. Instead, he composed a letter to the General Court at Plymouth. In it, he said: “I must protest the deplorable circumstances that have resulted in my present condition. Indeed, it is a shame when a man finds himself deprived of his freedom for his conscience sake. As others before me have noted, it is dangerous to force a man to go against his own conscience.”

20 For resisting arrest, he was fined five pounds. For permitting a Quaker meeting in his home, he was fined four pounds.

21 Arthur, however, refused to pay the fines and was again imprisoned. In June, he appeared before the court and asked them to dismiss the charges against him (which they did). That same year, he and his wife were also fined ten shillings for being absent from public worship (that is, the Puritan church).

22 Even so, the financial penalties were as nothing compared to the separation that their faith had wrought in their own family. John continued to adhere to the established church and began to avoid associating with his brothers. Arthur and Henry were heartbroken.

Chapter 8: 1629-1653, A Huguenot in Virginia

Life in Catholic France had been hard for the disciples of John Calvin who lived there, especially since the ascension of Louis XIII to the throne and his appointment of Cardinal Richelieu as his chief minister. In fact, after the defeat of the Protestants at La Rochelle in 1628, Robert Brasseur decided that life in his homeland was no longer possible. Thus, in great turmoil and with much trepidation, Robert made arrangements to flee with his children to America.

2 Their first move, however, would be to England. After all, England had been the ally of the Protestants at La Rochelle, and Virginia was their colony in the New World. “We will only be taking with us what few possessions we can carry on our persons,” he had told his son Benois. “Make sure your mother, brothers and sisters understand this.” In the meantime, he had liquidated as many of his assets as he could into cash before loading himself, his wife and his children onto a ship at Calais which was bound for England.

3 They arrived at the Isle of Thanet in the County of Kent in the spring of 1629. Once safely in England, Robert didn’t waste any time in beginning to make preparations for their passage to Virginia.

4 “We will have a chance for some peace and happiness there,” he told his wife. “Everything is so uncertain,” she fretted. “At least the King of France and his soldiers will not be trying to kill us there!” he exclaimed in exasperation.

5 A tear rolled down her cheek and his expression softened. “We will be alright, my love,” he whispered in her ear and lightly kissed her forehead.

6 As it turned out, Robert was right. They made it to Virginia without many problems and had made significant progress towards establishing themselves there within just a few years. Robert had been able to borrow money, purchase some land and construct a home for them on the southern shore of the James River.

7 Unfortunately, however, they soon discovered that the good people of Warrosquoake Shire, Virginia were not much more tolerant of their religious beliefs than the King of France had been. Most of the Englishmen living in those environs were members of the Church of England and didn’t have a very high opinion of Christians who belonged to other sects, especially Calvinists. They were simply too much like their Puritan brethren of the Massachusetts Bay Colony for their liking.

8 As a consequence, Robert decided to move his family to the more sparsely populated Virginia frontier. “I would rather face the savages than live among these bigots,” he proclaimed. Thus, within just a few years, the Frenchman and his family were on the move again.

9 Following the lead of other dissenters, Robert and his family settled around the Nansemond River. Unlike the situation in the North, religious persecution in the South forced Calvinists and Quakers to ban together and become allies there. In fact, two of Robert’s children would eventually become Quakers many years later. Nevertheless, there were enough of his former countrymen already settled in the area to make Robert and his family feel more at home, and one of them quickly became his best friend.

10 Peter Rey had suffered many of the same challenges and deprivations that Robert had over the past few years. Moreover, Peter had decided early on that he liked the tenacious and outgoing Robert and had set out to make him his friend. “We will build a life for ourselves here together,” Peter assured him shortly after they had met.

11 Within a few short years, they had partnered together to purchase six hundred acres of prime land and began to cultivate tobacco. In fact, their venture proved to be so profitable and successful that they were both soon able to turn their attention toward helping more of their countrymen who had fled persecution in their homeland to settle in America and make a fresh start. Indeed, by the year 1653, Robert alone had paid for the passage of twenty-four additional souls to the colony.

12 Fortunately for Robert, the government of the colony was anxious for more settlers and encouraged such generosity on the part of its citizens. For each person so transported, Virginia guaranteed a “headright” of fifty acres of additional land to the person who had sponsored them. Thus, for his generous efforts in that regard, Robert received one thousand two hundred acres of additional land that year.

13 Of course, the desire to help his fellow countrymen and the headrights which he received weren’t the only incentives for paying the costs of transporting people to America. The need for labor was another consideration. It took a lot of hard work to clear the land and cultivate and harvest the tobacco crops, and Robert and his family couldn’t do it all on their own. Hence, many of the folks whom Robert sponsored ended up as indentured servants – working as laborers for Robert to reimburse him for the cost of their passage to Virginia.

14 As a consequence of these circumstances, Robert was finally able to build a secure and rather comfortable life for himself and his family in the New World. His wealth also contributed to the fact that Robert’s daughters became the focus of many suitors over the years that followed (notwithstanding the fact that they were very beautiful, as Robert himself was want to point out on more than one occasion).

15 These are the generations of Robert Brasseur of France:

16 Robert begat Benois, Mary and seven other children.

17 Benois was the forefather of Harry Truman and Barack Obama.

18 Mary Brasseur married James Biddlecombe, and they had a daughter named Mary.

19 Mary Biddlecombe married James Tarpley; and they had a son named James, who owned a store in Williamsburg, Virginia.

Chapter 7: 1628-1640, The Genesis of Slavery

The first Africans arrived in Virginia aboard the White Lion in 1619. They had been captured from a Portuguese slave ship and purchased with food by the governor of the colony. These unfortunate folks worked in the capacity of indentured servants for the elite of the English colonists. Like their Anglo masters, many of them died of disease and as a result of Opechancanough’s attack three years after their arrival.

2 Then, in 1628, the ship Fortune brought about one hundred more Africans to Virginia. Among them, was a young boy who had taken the Christian name of John. He was just sixteen years old when he sailed up the James River to his new home. The captain of the Fortune had acquired him and his companions from a Spanish slaver in much the same fashion that the White Lion had acquired its cargo nine years earlier.

3 Frankly, the Massachusetts Bay ship had been a welcome change for the involuntary guests of the Spaniards. The conditions aboard that ship had been appalling. They had been stuffed below decks with sickness, vomit and excrement with little to eat or drink. The heat had been stifling at times and many of John’s friends had died along the way from their homeland.

4 The captain explained to the eager plantation owners gathered around his cargo that many of them had a great deal of experience with cultivating tobacco. The dealing commenced almost immediately. They needed laborers, and the captain wanted some of their tobacco to sell in England.

5 It was then that Hugh Gwyn stepped forward, waving his hand and shouted, “I will take this bunch.” He was pointing directly at John when he said it.

6 “How much will you give me for him?” the captain asked. “I meant, oh well,” Gwyn snorted. “I’ll give you this bundle.” “Sold,” the captain shouted over the heads of his other prospective customers. Then one of the sailors grabbed John by the arm and took him over to Gwyn and retrieved the bundle of tobacco.

7 “Do you understand any English, boy?” Gwyn asked. “A little,” the boy admitted. “Well, that is better than none,” Gwyn replied. “Come along then,” he motioned for John to follow him.

8 For the next two years, John worked hard at learning English and about the cultivation of tobacco. He was a quick study in both, but his master was rarely satisfied with anything he did. “Your food, clothing and housing has cost me dearly. I need more work from you to justify these expenses,” he would say.

9 The following year, John married a fellow servant named Jane. “What is your family name?” the priest had asked him. John paused for a moment. He didn’t want to assume the name of his master.

10 Then he remembered that day on the banks of the river when he had been sold for a bundle of tobacco. “Bunch!” he exclaimed. “My name is John Bunch.” “I will expect both of you to work just as hard as before,” Gwyn told them as they walked out of the small chapel.

11 In the years that followed, Gwyn acquired more servants to work alongside of John and his coworkers. Two of them, James and Victor, became fast friends with John.

12 “Has old Gwyn always been such a tyrant?” James asked. “For as long as I have worked for him,” John answered. They all laughed, but Gwyn’s constant demands and temper tantrums were becoming unbearable.

13 “I will not endure another seven years of this!” Victor declared one day. “What are you going to do?” John asked him. “I say that the three of us leave this place and go to Maryland and find work,” he replied.

14 “What about Jane?” John pleaded. “You can send for her and the children later,” James suggested.

15 That night, John and his companions slipped out into the darkness and headed north. They found a man with a small boat the following day who was willing to allow them to board his vessel and cross the Chesapeake into Maryland for a small amount of silver.

16 Gwyn, however, had no intention of allowing his investment in these three men to quietly slip away. He immediately went to the colonial authorities and demanded the return of his “property.”

17 A few days later, news came back that three men had been apprehended in Maryland whom the authorities believed to be Gwyn’s fugitive servants. Within days, he had identified the men and they were awaiting trial before the General Court.

18 The court ordered the three men to be whipped for their insolence – thirty lashes each. Victor and James were also ordered to serve an additional three years at the end of their original term of indenture, but John was ordered to serve Hugh Gwyn “for the rest of his natural life.”

19 “How can that be?” John thought. “How can they make such a difference between us?” Nevertheless, John’s case made it abundantly clear that indentured servitude meant very different things for White and Black servants.

20 Now these are the generations of John Bunch of Africa:

21 John was the forefather of Henry, Samuel and many others.

22 Henry married Ann Callaway; and they had a daughter named Elizabeth.

23 Elizabeth Bunch married Andrew Hodges; and they had a daughter named Susannah, who married Robert Reynolds and had two children: Jonathan and Mary.

24 Samuel Bunch was the forefather of Anna, who married Samuel Allred.

25 Samuel and Anna Allred were the ancestors of Barack Obama. 

Chapter 6: 1621-1622, War against the English

After Powhatan’s death in 1618, Opechancanough assumed the mantle of leadership among the people of Tsenacomoco. The new chief looked upon the English and their Colony of Virginia as a direct threat to him and his people.

2 “The time has come for us to teach these barbarians a lesson which they will never forget,” he announced to the council of weroances and warriors which he had assembled at his capital. “When we are finished with them, they will not want to live among us anymore,” he finished.

3 Then one of the holy men brought forward a bundle wrapped in a deer skin and decorated with shells and feathers and held it aloft for everyone to see. “These are the bones of the great Powhatan,” Opechancanough explained. “They cry out to us to undertake this sacred mission – to expel these foreigners from our midst! Will you answer their call?” he asked. With that, the assembled guests sprang to their feet with shouts and screams and fists stabbing the air above their heads as the holy man carefully placed the bundle on a platform in their midst.

4 That summer, Opechancanough approached the weroance of the Accomack and asked for his help. “I need a large quantity of the death plant,” he told him. “The foreigners will taste its bitterness in their water before we attack them,” he explained. “They will be weak and full of sadness when we come among them.”

5 “Such a large quantity of the plant would take much time to gather,” the weroance answered. “I will present your plan to my people and contact you when they have gathered it,” he finished.

6 The weroance, however, had no intention of gathering the death plant or giving it to Opechancanough. He was friendly with the English and informed them of the mamanatowick’s plans as soon as he had left his village.

7 Even so, Opechancanough had not been fooled by the leader of the Accomack. “He will not help us,” he told his warriors as he made his way back to his own village. “We will have to make the English believe that we want to be their friends,” he continued.

8 Toward that end, Opechancanough sent word to George Thorpe that he wanted to convert to Christianity. As a consequence, Captain Thorpe had a meeting with the mamanatowick and explained to him the religion of the English colonists.

9 Opechancanough listened politely and said, “I know that our ways are not pleasing to your God.” “It is also clear to our eyes that the Great Spirit favors your people,” he added.

10 Then he embraced the captain and told him that they would talk more about all of this in the near future. “Maybe, there is yet hope for these savages,” the captain thought as he returned to Jamestown.

11 At the beginning of spring, however, Opechancanough and his warriors launched a simultaneous attack on all of the English settlers and settlements. “When you enter one of their homes, make sure that you kill everyone inside – don’t let anyone escape,” the mamanatowick told them.

12 As a consequence, by the time that they were finished, over three hundred English colonists were dead. Captain Thorpe had also died in the massacre. Even so, much to the chagrin of Opechancanough and his allies, the English did not appear to be in any hurry to leave Virginia. They had suffered a serious setback, but the survivors appeared to be determined to stay.