When we arrived in Boston, we communicated our business to a certain doctor, who lived in Roxbury. He did not think so favorably of it as we had expected; but, nevertheless, agreed to lay it before the board of trustees, which we presume he did, as he is a man of truth. We told him that we asked for justice, not money, and said that we wished the Marshpee Indians to avoid the meeting-house, if it did not belong to them. With this we left him, and have never heard from him from that day to this. He is gone where his deeds done in the flesh will receive their just reward; which I hope is a crown of blessedness and glory.
We did not find the Governor in Boston; but were advised to wait on Mr. Armstrong, the Lieut. Governor. We showed him our petition and resolutions, which he said, would avail us nothing, unless enforced. We answered that they would be enforced, at the appointed time. He then suggested that we might have been instigated to the measures in question by some of our enemies; probably meaning some of our unprincipled white neighbors. We replied that ill usage had been our only instigation, and that no one had interfered in the matter. He advised us to deliver our petition to the Secretary of State, to be submitted to the Council at their next session; which we did.
This done, we called on one of the tribe who was engaged in the coasting business, and had done much to teach the Indians, and to bring them to a right knowledge of their degraded condition. He said that he would willingly relinquish his business, and join in the efforts of his brethren to shake off the yoke which galled them; and thereupon it was resolved to hold a convention on the twenty-fifth of June, for the purpose of organizing a new government. He desired to be there, and his name is Daniel Amos.
I now set out for Essex, where my family was living, accompanied by the blind preacher. I put my wife and little ones on board a small vessel, bound for Boston, while I and my blind brother returned thither by land. We all arrived safely, and soon after embarked for Barnstable, where we arrived on the eighteenth of June, and landed at a spot about twelve miles distant from the hospitable Indians. Here we found ourselves breathing a new atmosphere. The people were very little prepossessed in our favor, and we certainly owe them small thanks on the score of hospitality. We succeeded in obtaining the shelter of an old stable for two nights, by paying two dollars. We applied to one individual for accommodations during that time, for one of our party who was sick, but were refused. He said he had no room. If any white man should come to Marshpee and ask hospitality for a night or two, I do not believe that one of the whole tribe would turn him from his door, savages though they be. Does not he better deserve the name who took from us two dollars for sleeping in his stable? This usage made me think that in this part of New England