At Last A Great
Landed Proprietor, Who Held A Big Grant Of Land
In These Parts, Thought He'd Settle The Troubles.
So He Planted A Brass Cannon Near The Creek,
And Invited All The Indians Of The Neighborhood
To Come And Hear The White Man's Great Spirit
Talk.
The crafty man got the savages before the
mouth of the cannon, and said, 'Now look into
the hole
There, for it is the mouth of the white
man's Great Spirit, which will soon speak in tones
of thunder.' The fellow then touched off the
gun, and knocked half the devils into splinters.
The others were so skeerd at the big voice they
had heard that they were afraid to move, and
were soon all killed by one charge after another
from the cannon: so the creek has been called
Murderkill ever since."
I afterwards discovered that there were other
places on the coast which had the same legend
as the one told me by the innkeeper. Holders
of small farms lived in the vicinity of this tavern,
but the post-office was at Frederica, five miles
inland. Embarking the next day, I felt sure of
ending my cruise on Delaware Bay before night,
as the quiet morning exhibited no signs of rising
winds. The little pilot town of Lewes, near
Cape Delaware, and behind the Breakwater, is a
port of refuge for storm-bound vessels. From
this village I expected to make a portage of six
miles to Love Creek, a tributary of Rehoboth
Sound.
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