The banner of the Red Cross, likewise, was flying on the walls of the fort
of Salem; and a similar one was displayed in Boston harbor, from the
fortress on Castle Island.

"I profess, brother Williams," Captain Endicott would say, after they had
been talking of this matter, "it distresses a Christian man’s heart, to
see this idolatrous Cross flying over our heads. A stranger beholding it,
would think that we had undergone all our hardships and dangers, by sea
and in the wilderness, only to get new dominions for the Pope of Rome."

"Truly, good Mr. Endicott," Roger Williams would answer, "you speak as an
honest man and Protestant Christian should. For mine own part, were it my
business to draw a sword, I should reckon it sinful to fight under such a
banner. Neither can I, in my pulpit, ask the blessing of Heaven upon it."

Such, probably, was the way in which Roger Williams and John Endicott used
to talk about the banner of the Red Cross. Endicott, who was a prompt and
resolute man, soon determined that Massachusetts, if she could not have a
banner of her own, should at least be delivered from that of the Pope of
Rome.

Not long afterwards there was a military muster at Salem. Every
able-bodied man, in the town and neighborhood, was there. All were well
armed, with steel caps upon their heads, plates of iron upon their breasts
and at their backs, and gorgets of steel around their necks. When the sun
shone upon these ranks of iron-clad men, they flashed and blazed with a
splendor that bedazzled the wild Indians, who had come out of the woods to
gaze at them. The soldiers had long pikes, swords, and muskets, which were
fired with matches, and were almost as heavy as a small cannon.