The Fryeburg Battle that Changed History
- by Karen Cummings
- 5 days ago
- 10 min read
With May 2025 being the 300th anniversary of the history-making Battle of Lovewell Pond, also known as the Battle of Pequawket, the following is an update to a story I wrote for the Mountain Ear back in 1984, a mere 41 years ago, called "The Pequawkets Last Stand."
This “battle” happened on May 8th or 9th (or maybe another date depending on what account you read) and it changed the history of western Maine, the Conways, and, in fact, a big portion of New England forever.
I put battle in quotes, because it was more like a skirmish as the fight was between only 34 men representing the colonies against as little as 40 up to maybe 80 Native Americans, again depending on what history you read.
But it was a fight and it lasted all day. Captain John Lovewell and 18 of the colonists died, while it’s undetermined how many of the Abenakis, of which the Pequawkets were a tribe, lost their lives. It did, however, so decimate the tribe of Pequawkets living in the upper Saco River Valley in what is now Fryeburg Village, that it caused them to leave the fertile region and to never again engage in battle with the colonists.
As Frederic Kidder, a relative of one of Lovewell’s troupe, wrote in his 1865 book Captain John Lovewell and His Encounter With the Indians: “As this war has long borne the name of Lovewell, and as the largest tribe in Maine – the Penobscots – soon after the battle, asked for, and, with the others, obtained peace, while the fact that the Pequaukets [sic] always afterwards remained neutral, we must rank the fight of Pequauket as a decisive victory, and Captain Lovewell as a hero, and benefactor to his country.”
When I initially wrote about this historic fight, I took most of my information from Kidder’s book. He was not alone in declaring Lovewell a hero. For more than 200 years, so did the Massachusetts government, the early settlers to the region as evidenced by the many landmarks named for Lovewell, those writing the history books of that era, and the Massachusetts Society of Colonial Wars that erected a monument in 1904 at Lovewell Pond dedicated only to the Englishmen who fought there. The first real recognition of the Pequawkets came at the 250th observation held in Fryeburg in 1975 when the ceremony included the smoking of a peace pipe by representatives of both sides and the burying of a hatchet.
Debunking history’s ‘white lies’ My initial impression was that Lovewell was just a mercenary. While he was a very successful Indian tracker and hunter, I perceived him as a failed farmer out to collect the bounty of 100 pounds per Indian scalp that the governor of Massachusetts was offering.
Note that the average income for a colonist was a mere 40 pounds per year, as explained to me by Dr. Steven Eames, a longtime history professor who will be speaking at the Historical Society’s evening event on May 17. So, 100 pounds per scalp was quite the initiative.
I also perceived the Pequawkets as leading an idyllic and ecological life along the Saco. According to John Stuart Barrows in his 1938 book, Fryeburg, An Historical Sketch, the Pequawkets were thought to be cultivators of corn on the fields next to the river. The unique geography of the river before the canal was built in the early 1800s made it possible for them to “follow the 32 miles of winding river, hunting and fishing, to turn their canoes in the pond, then known as ‘Baco Pond,’ and after passing over two-and-a-half miles of sparkling water, to draw their canoes on the beach about two miles from their starting point at their village, a distance over which it was easily possible to carry their light craft.”
Was I wrong? Somewhat. Let’s just say that Captain Lovewell was not as bad as I thought and the Pequawkets were not so good.
It seems that despite various treaties over the years from 1675 to 1725 the Abenakis, which included the Pequawkets, continued to attack the encroaching English settlements. “No farmer was safe working his fields during the day, and any relaxation of vigilance was an invitation to murder, pillage and abduction,” wrote Alfred E. Kayworth and Raymond G. Potvin in their book The Scalp Hunters—Abenaki Ambush At Lovewell Pond, 1725, which was published in 2002.
Dr. Eames explained to me that the Abenakis didn’t really comprehend the treaties, especially the 1713 Treaty of Utrecht, which was actually signed in the Netherlands. First, they had no written language themselves as they related history orally. And, secondly, they did not understand owning property. They believed (and still believe) that “…the earth does not belong to man; man belongs to the earth…” as an 1800s Chief Seattle said.
The Utrecht Treaty, however, gave extensive new territory to the British as they got control of the Hudson Bay Colony, Nova Scotia, and Newfoundland in modern Canada from France. This allowed them to continue to expand their North American colonies. Despite this, the England vs. France conflict intensified as they continued to fight each other for control of maritime trade and also retention of territory. As in modern warfare where armies of smaller nations are often used as pawns by the super powers, so were the Abenakis used by the French to inflict damage on the English.
Add in a religion factor, too. Seems the French had sent Jesuit priests to the Abenaki villages and many of the Indians had been converted. Some accounts of the Pequawkets even note that there was a chapel in their village, which was located on or near the current Fryeburg Fairgrounds in Fryeburg Village. In the 1700s, the Puritan colonists were adamantly opposed to Catholicism and especially to the Jesuits and vice versa. At the bidding of the French government, the Jesuit priests actively incited the Abenakis to attack the colonists, with the French providing extra provisions, new guns, blankets, and even new moccasins to make them better equipped to fight this “enemy.”
Conflicts increased and spread over the three years from 1722 to 1725 in what was called Dummer’s War, named for Massachusetts Governor Dummer. As things reached a stalemate and as a way to get more of the colonists -- many of whom had decades of experience fighting Indians -- to join in the fight, the 100-pound bounty was eventually designated to be awarded for any Indian scalp.
Initial success
Captain John Lovewell was born in Dunstable (now Nashua, N.H.) in 1691 and it’s noted in The Scalp Hunters that he “lived amidst danger” for much of his youth “wondering when the Indians would attack.” A farmer first, Lovewell is most often described as a woodsman, a hunter, a soldier, and an Indian fighter. Prior to his escapades in 1725, he lived with his wife and two children on a 200-acre farm on the south side of the Nashua River.
In 1724, there was a massacre of eight settlers who had gone with Josiah Farwell, also of Dunstable, in pursuit of two local men who they supposed had been kidnapped by the “enemy Indian.” As they went in almost wild pursuit without taking precautions, they were ambushed and all but Farwell, who was bringing up the rear, were killed.
The hue and outcry from this in Dunstable and the other outlying colonies prompted Lovewell and others to join together and form a company of men to pursue the “savages.”
Early in 1725, they set off up through the snow and cold toward the White Mountains, but it was nearly a month before they encountered either enemy Indians or even friendly settlements. Just as they were getting discouraged, they passed the tracks of a hunting party. Showing his normal caution, Lovewell had the company wait until nightfall to attack and they were able to kill and scalp all 10 in the party.
Following this success, Lovewell and his men were received as heroes in Boston. According to Pat Higgins in her story about Lovewell’s Fight online under The Maine Story, “They paraded their scalps through the streets, and Lovewell himself wore a wig made of Indian scalps.” But, in addition to the notoriety, these farmers turned soldiers were also given the amazing sum in those days of 1000 pounds.
Lovewell immediately set about raising another contingent of men to once again venture into Indian country. This time his plans were to stalk the Indian all the way to his villages, pursuing those known to have made raids on the frontier towns, which included the Pequawkets.
On the 16th of April, Lovewell set out from Dunstable with 46 men under his command. Misfortune almost immediately befell the group. Two of the men most knowledgeable in the wiles and ways of the Abenakis had to return to the settlements due to injuries and a third man accompanied them. When they reached Ossipee, where they built a small fort, 10 additional men were garrisoned to stay with a man who had fallen ill. These included the doctor, a sergeant, and seven others to serve as guards.
A sizeable amount of the small army’s supplies were also left at the hastily built fort to lighten their load as Lovewell and his reduced company of 34 men proceeded to Pequawket Village, now Fryeburg, a distance of about 40 miles.
A deadly fight
At the same time as Lovewell and his men were arriving in Pequawket (also known as Pigwacket, which when translated appears to refer to what is now known as Jockey Cap), Chief Paugus, who was actually chief of the Sokokis, another Abenaki tribe, and his war party were returning from a failed attempt to engage colonists down river, having canoed upstream all night. One of their group went off on his own to do a little hunting before heading back to the village.
It was as the English were being led in prayer by the young 20-year-old chaplain Jonathan Frye early in the morning of Sunday, May 9, that they heard a gunshot. They ran to the pond and spotted the solitary Indian on the northeastern side.
Despite a consensus that this lone Indian might be a decoy to lure them into a trap, they took off to pursue him, even dropping all their packs to lessen their load. This was contrary to Lovewell’s normal overabundance of caution and ultimately proved to be a fatal mistake.
They tracked the Indian through the woods and swamps for almost two miles and were able to surprise him enough to get off the first shot. Before dying of his wounds, the Indian was able to fire several rounds of beaver-shot, wounding Lovewell and another of the soldiers.
It was young chaplain Frye who rushed to get the scalp and according to many accounts that’s one reason for the change of the date to May 8 as Higgins wrote: “…one couldn’t have young ministers of God running wild scalping people on a Sunday. Saturday was okay.”
Momentarily satisfied with their kill and scalp, the group retraced their steps in order to recover their packs.
However, Paugus and his braves had heard the shots just as they came upon the abandoned packs, which had been unwisely left near a major trail crossing. The slain Indian had not been a decoy, but the English had inadvertently announced their numbers.
Now came Paugus’ turn to make a mistake. Knowing that he and his men greatly outnumbered the English he decided to openly attack rather than conceal themselves as they normally did in battle.
Historic accounts do differ in the number of Indians involved but there were at least 40, and likely more, and they ambushed Lovewell’s men as they were returning for their packs. They leaped at them from both the front and the rear, howling and yelping, with Lovewell and eight others killed immediately while several others were wounded. Many in Paugus’ group were felled, too. It is said that the nearby brook, now named Fight Brook, ran red with blood.
The situation was desperate for the colonists, but they were able to retreat until they were pinned with their backs to the pond and still hold off the Indians, who, after the original attack, went back to hiding. “The red men … possessed the greater resourcefulness in concealment; while the woodsmen … excelled in deadliness of aim,” wrote Charles Beals, Jr., in describing the battle in Passaconaway in the White Mountains.
Over the next 10 hours of “battle,” which was really a standoff, the hungry settlers were able to hold off the Indians, even sneaking out of hiding during a lull in the fight to kill Paugus and another chief Powaw (or Powak as written in other accounts) as they were meeting to plan strategy.
The Indians withdrew after the deaths of the chiefs, but the English remained in hiding, fearing their return. Ten men had died, three were seriously wounded and unable to move with one of them requesting that his gun be loaded and left with him so he could maybe kill one more Indian. Eleven were wounded but able to march, and nine were unhurt.
On the march back to the fort, four men who were too seriously wounded to proceed were left with the expectation that when the rest reached the fort, they would send others to help them. Three of these, including young Jonathan Frye, eventually died.
Upon reaching the fort, however, the decimated army, who were starving and in need of medical attention, found that their comrades had fled and left only a note and a bag of bread and pork. This was because during the early frenzy of the first Indian attack one of their group had escaped, running for his life. When he made it to the fort, he told those who were waiting there that all had been lost and they all headed back to Dunstable.
Seventeen of Lovewell’s men eventually found their way back to Massachusetts and home. They were all considered heroes and together with the surviving families of those who lost their lives, were rewarded with pensions, settlements, and lasting honor and notoriety.
As for the Pequawkets and other Abenakis involved in the fight, it is estimated that maybe 20 to a maximum of 40 lost their lives in the historic engagement (although one account put the number at 58). It was enough to cut the adult male population of the Pequawket tribe in half. As a result, they chose to flee the region and join other Native Americans in Odanak (also known as St. Francis) and Wôlinak in the Quebec region of Canada.
Despite provocation during the subsequent French and Indian War, the remaining Abenakis and the Pequawket tribe never again raised arms in battle and stayed neutral in all their dealings. In terms of lives lost, no one won what is popularly known as the Battle of Lovewell Pond, but it forever quieted the resistance of the Indians in northern New England and opened the White Mountains to subsequent peaceful settlement.