Legend of Samp Mortar Rock

HIGH ABOVE THE surrounding countryside some two or three miles north of Fairfield center there is a precipice about thirty feet high, where a long, glacial outcropping terminates. The cliff has always been called "Samp Mortar Rock," after the excavation in the shape of a mortar which nature scooped from the granite at the summit. The mortar-like hollow is large enough to hold at least a half-bushel of corn, and there is a tradition that the native Indians did use it for pounding their corn (known as "samp") as late as the first English settlements.
In the beautiful valley south of the rock, according to ancient legend, lived a small tribe of Mohicans, numbering perhaps fifty in all, led by their chief, Onee-to. Onee-to had but one child, a daughter named Tahmore, who was as bright and beautiful as the sunlight. Yet, though many a love-struck brave came to Onee-to's home to court Tahmore, she rejected every one.
One day, Tahmore ventured into the woods with her bow and arrow to shoot birds from which she would pluck feathers to decorate her hair. On the way back to the village, she was suddenly confronted by a large panther. Quickly, she set her last arrow in her bow, pulled the string and struck the animal a death blow. As the panther lay dying, it sent forth a horrible, piercing shriek. Now it also happened that the twenty-year-old son of a recent English settler was in the woods nearby, hunting with his powerful dog, when he heard the panther's death-cry. Thinking someone was in distress, young George (for such was his name) hastened toward the horrible sound and quickly arrived on the scene.
On the ground he saw the huge beast with an arrow through its heart, but he also noticed in a tree nearby another big cat, perhaps the mate of the dead panther, prepared to spring at a beautiful young Indian woman. She stood before the animal, helpless but unafraid, staring into the burning eyes. Acting quickly, George raised his rifle and fired one fatal round. With his dog administering the final touches, the second panther soon fell dead. Tahmore knelt at George's feet and with words and gestures which could not be misunderstood, thanked him for her deliverance. Touched by her charm and grace, young George lost his heart to her on the spot.
As Tahmore turned to leave, he caught her by the hand, saying, "Will not the beautiful maiden tell me her name, that I may see her again; and may I accompany her to the tent of her father?" The Indian girl agreed and they returned to her village hand-in-hand. After hearing what had taken place in the woods, Onee-to grasped George's hand, thanking him for his kindness. The chief also agreed to give Tahmore as George's bride. George and Tahmore awaited happily for the day they would be joined forever.
Meanwhile, only a few miles from Samp Mortar Rock and Tahmore's village lay the great swamp of Sasco, where there lived a dwindling band of Pequots, with their once-powerful chief, Sassacus. These were the last of the Pequots who had fled along the Long Island Sound shore, pursued by English forces under Captain John Mason, after their main encampment at Groton had been brutally destroyed in 1637. Now it so happened that the fugitive chief had been out foraging in the woods where Tahmore and George had met and had secretly witnessed the killing of the panthers. Struck by Tahmore's beauty, the noble Pequot fell in love with her. Each evening, for many days after, Sassacus returned to the place where he had seen Tahmore, hoping to meet her and tell of his adoration. One day, it happened.
Although Sassacus was hidden from her view as he watched Tahmore pause in the clearing, he was so struck by her loveliness that he uttered an involuntary gasp, startling the maiden. She turned to flee, but he sprang forward, grasping her by the hand. He poured out his love to her and urged her to become his bride. But she replied, "Tahmore will be your friend, but she can never live in your tent, for Tahmore loves another." Angered by her reply, the spurned Sassacus clutched at his knife -- just as George, along with his dog and Chief Onee-to, came on the scene. As the terrified Indian woman dashed into her lover's arms, Sassacus darted into the encompassing forest, vowing revenge on the one he could never wed.
The next day Tahmore sat upon Samp Mortar Rock pounding corn for the evening meal, her soul happy, for her wedding date had now been set. The ugly events of the previous day were far from her mind. As Tahmore sang quietly at her work, the tawny figure of Sassacus crept silently through the small bushes on the ridge behind her. Suddenly, a huge eagle flew screeching from the brush where it had been startled from its nest. When Tahmore turned to watch the eagle's flight, she spied Sassacus, knife in hand. Her escape cut off at the rear, there was nothing else for the courageous Indian maiden to do to avoid Sassacus' revenge but leap from the top of the cliff. Luckily, the thickly-matted grass at the base of Samp Mortar Rock cushioned her fall. She survived without injury and fled back to her village.
But Sassacus was not through. A few days later, as Tahmore waited in her tent for George to arrive, the Pequot chief appeared with news that struck fear in her heart. "Your lover is my prisoner," Sassacus informed her. "If by tomorrow's sunset you do not become my bride, I will tear out his heart and roast it for my supper. In the great swamp of Sasco, he is guarded by my trusty warriors. You have heard my decision. Now you must make yours." With that, Sassacus returned to the dismal swamp.
It did not take Tahmore long to make her decision. She hastened to the headquarters of the English forces sealing off the Pequots' escape routes from the swamp of Sasco. After she told Capt. Mason about Sassacus' white prisoner and warned him that George faced immediate execution, the English commander sent his troops into the swamp with orders to rescue the unfortunate captive and shoot all the Indians. The mission was accomplished successfully as far as George was concerned and with deadly efficiency in the case of Sassacus and his remaining followers. The "Great Swamp Fight" on July 13, 1637, saw the total destruction of the Pequots.

from Legendary Connecticut by David E. Philips / ISBN 1-880684-05-5 / $17.95

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