Late in the autumn of 1688, the Governor had led a thousand New-England
soldiers into Maine against the Indians. His operations there were
unfortunate. The weather was cold and stormy. The fatigue of long
marches through an unsettled country was excessive. Sickness spread
among the companies. Shelter and hospital-stores had been insufficiently
provided. The Indians fled to the woods, and there laughed at the
invader.

The costliness, discomforts, and miserable ill-success of this
expedition, while they occasioned clamor in the camp, sharpened the
discontents existing at the capital. Suspicions prevailed of treachery
on the Governor's part, for he was well known to be without the excuse
of incompetence. Plausible stories were told of his being in friendly
relations with the murderous Indians. An apprehension that he was
instructed by his Popish master to turn New England over to the French,
in the contingency of a popular outbreak in England, was confirmed by
reports of French men-of-war hovering along the coast for the
consummation of that object. When, in mid-winter, Andros was informed of
the fears entertained at Court of a movement of the Prince of Orange, he
issued a proclamation, commanding His Majesty's subjects in New England,
and especially all officers, civil and military, to be on the alert,
should any foreign fleet approach, to resist such landing or invasion as
might be attempted. Not causelessly, even if unjustly, the Governor's
object was understood to be to hold New England for King James, if
possible, should the parent-country reassert its rights.

Of course, no friendly welcome met him, when, on the heels of his
proclamation, he returned to Boston from the Eastern Country. He was
himself so out of humor as to be hasty and imprudent, and one of his
first acts quickened the popular resentment. The gloomy and jealous