Our Second Ancestor in America

Daniel Hawes was Edward's third child, and his eldest son. He was born at Dedham, Massachusetts, on December 10, 1652. He died at Wrentham, Massachusetts, March 16, 1737, in his 86th year.(1)

He was married on January 23, 1677, at Dedham to Abigail Gay (often written Abiel). She was the daughter of John and Joanna Gay of Dedham.

From this union there were seven children, as follows:
Daniel
Josiah
Hezekiah
Benjamin
Mary
Abigail
Ruth

All these children were born in Wrentham, Massachusetts.

His wife, Abigail, died in Wrentham on June 17, 1718. He married again in Wrentham on November 22, 1720. This time it was to Bridget Woodward, widow of Israel Cheever of Cambridge, Massachusetts. There were no children by this second marriage. His widow, Bridget, survived him and on April 24, 1739, married William Mann, who survived her.

In Daniel's will are bequests of land and personal property to Bridget his wife, the four sons mentioned above, and to Mary Ware and Abigail Mann, his daughters, and to Benoni Wight, only son of his other daughter, Ruth Wight, deceased. The names of the three daughters in the will are their married names.

Daniel's will is dated at Wrentham, Massachusetts, January 14, 1731, and was probated at Boston, Massachusetts, Case No. 1738.

Daniel had service in King Philip's Indian War; in fact, he was one of the leaders in defense of the colony. His brothers and many others of the Hawes family also served.

Daniel and his wives lived in Wrentham, Massachusetts, which at that time was a part of the Dedham district.(2)

His house was of logs. Their neighbors were a few whites, and many Wampanoag Indians, the same who with their chief, King Philip, were in what history calls King Philip's War, which threatened the existence of the entire English colony.

Wrentham on the maps today is but a few miles outside of Boston; in the days I speak of, it seemed further and was deep in the wilderness. Fish, game and the chance of losing your scalp were entirely abundant.

Daniel's house was burned in the Indian war; in fact, most of the settlement was burned. The settlers took refuge in other towns, many had left before the savages came. Dan was at home, hoping to save what he had. He had three muskets, and a neighbor to load for him. He knew most of the Wampanoags and thought it unlikely they would burn him out, but he knew the other tribes most certainly would.

The Narragansetts, fiercest in the district, attacked him. He was having good luck keeping them back, although he always shot to wound, not to kill. His cabin was built so the roof extended over a narrow platform built at the top of the wall, thus making it easy to shoot down through port holes. But the Indians finally got fire started in the roof. Other settlers arrived just at the critical moment. Dan lost his cabin, but saved himself.

I got this information from an aged letter from a Mr. Ware, who was one of those who came to Dan's relief.(3)

Even with the end of King Philip's War, Indian troubles didn't cease. There was more or less trouble for years, with loss of life and property. Settlers had to be always prepared and always on the watch. When your troubles grow insufferable, pause a moment and think of Dan. He worked overtime with wars, troubles, etc., for quite a spell.

There is a well-authenticated report that Dan's house was rebuilt of hand-hewn hardwood logs, and so well done that it lasted until 1895, when it was torn down for some reason I could not ascertain. I have seen several such houses in New England, Maryland, and Long Island. They lasted because they were built by men who had not learned to cheat.

This latter house of Dan's was very large, and for those times, very fine; and, being within easy distance of the Post Road (as you have already divined), of course[,] George Washington slept there on his way to Boston. This was inevitable. It always takes several days to unscrew your neck after you have twisted it enough to see all the New England houses where George Washington slept; but history does show that he did have enough wakeful moments to win the war.

Anyhow, this is the legend. Believe it or not. Even truth will not be believed if you go into too much detail. All married men know that.

One of our kinsmen, a prominent New York City lawyer, some years ago made a very interesting address before some historical and biographical society. He is also the author of a genealogy of a part of the Edward Hawes line. He produced some very interesting papers and petitions signed by Edward Hawes, Daniel and others in reference to Indian depredations, threats, and other Indian objections to further skinning by their white brothers.

The address was instructive and was well received; but he failed to mention how Edward and Daniel could have signed the documents when neither man could write. Years later both signed their wills by making their marks. If a man can write at all, it most certainly will be to sign his own will, or so it seems to me. This mistake also casts some reflection on the value of our kinsman's genealogy.

The inventory taken when Daniel's will was probated shows a value of over seven hundred pounds, say over $3500.00.... quite a few cows, sheep, land, tools, etc., for those days.

In 1702 Daniel was assessed 11 shillings as his share of building a new schoolhouse, which was the largest assessment to any proprietor.

There is quite some rumor he had a good voice....

I like to think of Daniel, his big dog by his side,
Watching in the moonlight while Abbie works inside.
There is a blind protects him from prying eyes outside.
Behind each tree and rock some savage foe may hide.

Dan's bench leans toward the cabin, he sings to Ab of love.
The moon man winks a friendly eye in the heavens above,
Or maybe it's a nasal hymn he executes this time.
The big dog raps his tail as he marks off the chime.

Abbie keeps working until the job is through,
Never does she make a sneak like most moderns do.
The dishes where she eats today, she washes now and puts away,
Never leaves them in a stack to do, if and when she comes back.(4)

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From Mary Hawes Ashbrook (Fred's daughter) in 1965 or 1968:
Dad never saw a dishwasher!

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It takes more than bear grease to keep your hair real neat,
And you never can be careless and still walk on your feet.
The Injuns are troublesome, the good Lord sees him through.
Dan always trusts in him... and in his musket, too.

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