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Lois Witham

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Molly Ockett - Last of the Pigwacketts

For many years I have admired the life of Molly Ockett. She represents many of the Abenaki descendents living in Maine today. Some are connected to their ancestry and others aware only of some family story handed down about an Indian relative, perhaps a great or great great grandparent. 

To me, Molly is a heroine in many ways. She was born into an abyss created by the end of one era and the beginning of the next. It was in the summer of 1740 that she was born near the mouth of the Saco River, where her parents were camped. The Abenaki name she was given was soon forgotten as she was baptized with a Christian name. The "black robes" as the Catholic missionaries were known, were quick to baptize the Wabanaki children. The Wabanakis had developed close ties to the missions which provided them shelter in times of war and often served as trading posts.  Molly was given the name Marie Agathe. This name did not roll off the Abenaki tongue smoothly and before long the name was pronounced Molly Ockett or Moll Ockett. 

So many of the Wabanaki people didn't know where they fit in to all these changes. Their lands were dwindling and overrun with new people and new ways. Molly saw her people decimated by wars and disease. So many fled to Canada where they felt safe with the French. Molly, adapted her surroundings to meet her needs. She established her identity when she was young and lived her life knowing who she was. She was only a toddler when another war broke out and neutrality was not acceptable to the English. If you were not on their side, then you were against them and an enemy. Already plagued by war for 100 years before Molly was born, the Pigwacket numbers had dwindled drastically. After making the decision to place themselves under the protection of the English, all but the warriors were sent to Massachusetts. 

For the next few years Molly and her mother along with a handful of other Pigwacket women and children lived on the coast of Assewomock Neck. They fished, farmed, made clothing and baskets. Here they lived among thousands of whites. The English they lived among did not like them praying as the "black robes" had taught them. Life was hard for the small group of Pigwackets.

Meanwhile the Pigwacket warriors were fighting with the English against their other Wabanaki brothers and the French who had treated them with kindness. Guilt plagued them. Finally the long war was over but it was still another year before they were able to return to their home in Maine. Sadly Molly and another young girl, were held as hostages by the English to assure the Pigwackets would not join with the other Wabanaki tribes and turn against the English again. 

Molly was only 9 years old when she was sent to live in the home of a Boston Judge. The young girl was lonely and saddened by her separation from her mother. Nights found her crying herself to sleep. Soon she made the best of her situation and started learning from the maid of the household, with whom she shared a room. She learned many things that prepared her for her adult life. She helped Molly with her English, taught her new ways of sewing and read to her from the Bible. When Molly was allowed to return home to her parents almost a year later the maid gifted her with a new dress she had made for her.

Another transition in Molly's life was about to take place. First she went through the trauma of being moved from her home, at only 4 years old, to Massachusetts to live among the English who didn't want her or her kind there. Next, after the warriors were reunited with their families at the end of the war, Molly, now 8 years old had to get to know her father again. One year later her parents, along with the other Pigwackets were sent back to their home but Molly was held hostage and placed in an English home. Now she was returning home to her parents and once again her life would change. Now at 9 years old she was returning to the lifestyle of the Indian. By now she had lived more than half her young life among the English. 

How free she must have felt back in the woods of Maine, smelling the balsam, listening to the songs of the woodland birds and being able to run through the trees like a young doe. She learned so much now that she was back where she belonged. She learned the healing properties of the plants, which knowledge would later cause her to be known as a great Indian Healer. Henry Tufts, in later years a beneficiary of her healing skills, called her the "doctress."