n, Lady Deborah Moody, another exile from religious
persecution, who with forty stout-hearted men defended her plantation
and compelled the savages to beat a retreat.

[1645]

The colony was in extremity. New Haven refused to aid, because, as a
member of the New England confederacy, it could not act alone, and
because it was not satisfied that the Dutch war was just. An appeal was
made by Kieft's eight advisers to both the States-General and the West
India Company in Holland. The sad condition of the colonists was fully
set forth, and the responsibility directly ascribed to the mismanagement
of Kieft. At the same time, undismayed by the gloomy outlook, the
courage of the sturdy Dutchmen rose with the emergency. Small parties
were sent out against the Connecticut savages in the vicinity of
Stamford. Indian villages on Long Island were surprised and the natives
put to the sword. In two instances at least the victors disgraced
humanity by torturing the captured.

In these engagements Underhill was conspicuous and most energetic.
Having made himself familiar with the position of the Indians near
Stamford, he sailed from Manhattan with one hundred and fifty men,
landed at Greenwich, and, marching all day, at midnight drew near the
enemy. His approach was not wholly unannounced, for the moon was full.
The fight was desperate and bloody. The tragedy that had made memorable
the banks of the Mystic in the destruction of the Pequot fort was now
almost equalled. After the example of his old comrade Mason, Underhill
fired the village. By flame, shot, or sword more than five hundred human
beings perished.

While New Netherland was awaiting some message of cheer from Holland, a
company of Dutch soldiers came from Curacoa, but they did little to
follow up the successes already gained. Again the Eight sent a memorial
to the company, boldly condemning the conduct of the director and
demanding his recall. Their remonstrances were at last heeded, and the
removal of the unpopular governor resolved upon. In 1647 Kieft set sail
for Holland, but the ship was wrecked, and he with nearly all on board
was drowned.

It was high time for a change. In the two years, 1643-45, while sixteen
hundred Indians had been slain, Manhattan had become nearly depopulated.
In 1645 peace was concluded, not only with the smaller tribes in the
vicinity, but also with the powerful Mohawks about Fort Orange, and
finally with all the Indians belonging to the Fi