The Cocheco Indians comprised a significant sub-tribe within the larger Western Abenaki nation, their history intricately woven into the early colonial tapestry of what is now southeastern New Hampshire. Their traditional territory, known to them as Wecohamet, corresponds to the modern city of Dover. Dover holds the distinction of being the oldest continuous European settlement in New Hampshire and ranks among the earliest established settlements in the United States, marking it as a site of considerable historical importance.
To truly understand the context of the Cocheco Indians, one must appreciate the broader geographical area that was once encompassed by Dover. In its nascent stages, Dover’s boundaries were far more extensive than they are today. They included the present-day communities of Durham, Madbury, Newington, and Lee. Furthermore, the areas of Somersworth and Rollinsford were also part of this larger geographical entity. The Abenaki, in their own rich linguistic tradition, referred to Somersworth and Rollinsford collectively as Newichawannock, a name derived from the Newichawannock River, which we now know as the Salmon Falls River. This river served as a vital resource and a defining geographical feature for the indigenous inhabitants of the region.
The arrival of European settlers dramatically reshaped the landscape and the lives of the Cocheco Indians. The settlers, driven by the need for shelter and resources, embarked on a relentless campaign of deforestation. They felled the abundant trees that characterized the region to construct sturdy log houses, which were often fortified and known as garrisons. These garrisons served as both homes and defensive structures, reflecting the precarious nature of life on the frontier. As the European town expanded, its population and commercial activities gradually shifted away from Dover Point, an early focal point, and gravitated towards Cochecho, specifically the area around the falls.
The falls at Cochecho represented a significant geographical feature, boasting a drop of approximately 34 feet (10 meters). This natural drop in elevation provided a valuable source of water power, which the settlers harnessed to fuel their burgeoning industries. The very name Cochecho, in the Abenaki language, is evocative of the river’s character, meaning "the rapid foaming water." This name reflects the indigenous people’s keen observation and understanding of their environment.
A pivotal and tragic episode in the history of the Cocheco Indians unfolded at the close of King Philip’s War. As the conflict raged, many indigenous people, fleeing from the relentless pursuit of the Massachusetts Bay Colony militia, sought refuge with the Abenaki tribe residing in Dover. The Massachusetts militia, determined to subdue all resistance, issued a direct order to Major Richard Waldron, a prominent figure in the Dover settlement, to attack the native population and surrender any refugee combatants to them.
Waldron, believing he could achieve the desired outcome without resorting to a full-scale battle, devised a plan rooted in deception. On September 7, 1676, he extended an invitation to the native people, numbering approximately 400 in total, to participate in a mock battle against the militia. This group comprised both local Abenaki and the refugees seeking sanctuary. Waldron’s invitation was a calculated ruse. Once the natives had discharged their firearms in the mock battle, Waldron’s militia swiftly moved to disarm and imprison them.
Waldron then made a fateful decision. He sent both the refugee combatants and those local Abenaki who vehemently protested this violation of hospitality to Boston, where they faced the harsh consequences of colonial justice. Seven or eight individuals were convicted of insurrection and subsequently executed. The remaining prisoners were sold into slavery and transported to "foreign parts," primarily Barbados, where they endured a life of forced labor and servitude. While the local Abenaki were eventually released, the act of betrayal and the violation of deeply held principles of honor and hospitality left an indelible scar on their relationship with Waldron and the English settlers.
Richard Waldron’s actions would not go unrewarded by the colonial authorities. In 1683, he was appointed Chief Justice for New Hampshire, a testament to his standing within the colonial power structure. However, his past actions would come back to haunt him and the settlement of Dover.
Thirteen years elapsed, and the settlers, perhaps lulled into a false sense of security, believed that the incident had been forgotten. However, with the outbreak of King William’s War, tensions reignited. Members of the newly formed Wabanaki Confederacy, a coalition of various indigenous tribes, arrived in the region. When concerned citizens voiced their anxieties to Waldron, he dismissively told them to "go and plant your pumpkins, and he would take care of the Indians." This statement reveals a dangerous level of complacency and a profound underestimation of the simmering resentment among the native population.
On June 27, 1689, a seemingly innocuous event unfolded. Two native women appeared at each of five garrison houses, requesting permission to sleep by the fire, a common practice of hospitality at the time. All but one house granted their request. However, this act of apparent trust masked a carefully orchestrated plan of revenge. In the dark early hours of the following day, the women stealthily unfastened the doors of the garrisons, allowing native men, who had concealed themselves nearby, to enter the town undetected.
Waldron, awakened by the commotion, attempted to resist the attack, but he was quickly subdued. He was struck with a hatchet and then placed upon his table, a symbolic act of humiliation. After dining, the Indians, in a chilling display of retribution, took turns cutting Waldron across the belly with knives, each saying "I cross out my account." This act symbolized the settling of old scores and the redress of past grievances.
In addition to the death of Waldron, five or six dwelling houses were set ablaze, and the mills, vital to the town’s economy, were destroyed. The attack resulted in the capture or slaying of fifty-two colonists, a devastating loss that represented a full quarter of the entire population of Dover. The Cocheco Indians, or at least members of the Wabanaki Confederacy seeking retribution for past injustices, had exacted a heavy price.
The conflict between the settlers and the native population continued into the 18th century. During Father Rale’s War, in August and September of 1723, Indian raids targeted Saco, Maine, and Dover, New Hampshire, demonstrating the ongoing vulnerability of these frontier settlements. The following year, Dover was once again subjected to a raid, and Elizabeth Hanson, a colonist who was captured during the attack, later wrote a captivity narrative, providing a firsthand account of her experiences and shedding light on the realities of life on the contested frontier.
The history of the Cocheco Indians is a complex and often tragic narrative of cultural collision, broken trust, and violent conflict. It serves as a reminder of the human cost of colonization and the enduring legacy of the indigenous people who once called this land their home. The events that unfolded in Dover, New Hampshire, offer valuable insights into the early interactions between European settlers and the native population, shaping the history and identity of the region.