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A towering pillar of flame, ash, and smoke rose from Bedford Village and Olde Dartmouth. Men rushed out of smoldering warehouses and burning ships as the maw of an ever-growing fire, whipped on by a cruel wind, chewed into the surrounding homes.
Twenty miles away, a British army captain in Newport looked east and saw “a conflagration … so massive that it lit up the night sky.” The glowing horizon indicated that Grey’s Raid, the September 1778 assault on present-day New Bedford and nearby towns, had achieved fiery ruin of the Acushnet River’s whaling and merchant industries — and those pesky privateering mercenaries who hid among them.
But somewhere in the fog of black clouds swirling near Buzzard’s Bay, a little farmhouse improbably tucked itself away. The Akin House belonged to the patriots who — perhaps more than any other family — had made Dartmouth into a target.
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Sitting on the high ground of what was then known as Potter’s Hill, the small farmhouse “dodged the British invasion” and “centuries later, the wrecking ball.” Today, the Akin House stands as the last vestige of the Akin family’s holdings after the British targeted their wharf, tavern, and multiple homes.
Yet so grateful were Dartmouth residents for the Akins’ leadership and sacrifice, the village now called Padanaram was known as “Akin’s Wharf” for nearly a generation.
The 263-year-old farmhouse in present-day Dartmouth stands as one the few remaining “witness sites” to the revolutionary battle that reshaped New Bedford. The restored home is an unlikely survivor of the imperial raid that attempted “to exterminate the nests of some rebel privateers, which abounded in the harbors, rivers, and creeks about Buzzard’s Bay, in the old colony of Plymouth.”
The humble farmhouse stands as a bridge to a fighting past, connecting Dartmouth’s venerable villages, hoary homes, and ancestral farmland to the story of the nation’s founding.
The story of Grey’s raid
When British Maj. Gen. Charles Grey landed his 4,500 men on Clark’s Cove, just outside of today’s New Bedford-Fairhaven harbor, on the evening of Sept. 4, 1778, he was then standing in Dartmouth. The five modern municipalities of New Bedford, Dartmouth, Fairhaven, Acushnet, and Westport were not yet carved out of what was once a single, larger town.
When Grey came into range, local men attempted to drive him back by firing Fort Phoenix’s 11 cannons. Failing to turn the ships around, these militiamen spiked the cannons and retreated. But they were not finished yet.
As night fell, Grey’s troops marched toward a tantalizing military target — the holdout ships and docks of New Bedford. “By the end of 1777 … New Bedford was the only major port north of the Chesapeake still in rebel hands,” wrote Steven Neill, an author for the Journal of the American Revolution. “So it quickly became a vital hub for the burgeoning fleet of privateers the rebels had been authorizing.”
Almost a dozen vessels and hundreds of men in the area were involved in privateering — sea warfare for hire — with “the largest being the 18-gun brig Fanny, manned by a crew of 100. Among the smallest was Prudence, a boat with a crew of eight armed only with a single swivel gun,” according to reporting from Robert Barboza, formerly of the New Bedford Standard-Times.
The Akins were highly influential in this world, both as shipbuilders and tavern operators. By the 1770s, the family became “enthusiastic supporters of the American cause,” writes historian Leonard Ellis. And the Akins had been responsible for driving a number of prominent Tories out of Dartmouth earlier in the war.
But there were steep consequences for leading this Tory expulsion. Ellis writes: “Tradition says that it was the information from these [Tories] that caused the property of the Aikens [sic] to receive the special attention of the enemy.” In fact, the same Tories who’d been driven out volunteered as pilots, steering the redcoats directly to the Akins’ main home and businesses, located in present-day Padanaram.
Their wharf and tavern, located on today’s Water Street, were burned to the ground. So were three homes belonging to Elihu Akin, James Akin, and Meribah Akin (though Meribah didn’t live there, according to one witness).
Meanwhile, the main force of redcoats had marched up from Clark’s Cove into present-day New Bedford, lighting fires and destroying ships and warehouses. In total, more than 70 ships and a score of warehouses brimming with sugar, tea, molasses, coffee, tobacco, medicine, and sail cloth were destroyed in Grey’s raid.
At least 11 homes were also destroyed in New Bedford, despite a British captain’s report that he received orders not to burn civilian homes. It remains unclear whether it was Grey and his men (who were by this point famous for wartime brutality) or an unfortunate direction of the wind that were responsible for spreading the fires.
The redcoats next turned eastward, marching over the Acushnet River on a bridge of strung-together boats. Present-day Fairhaven, however, may have organized itself better to fight off the British.
Seeing the fires across the harbor, a Fairhaven militia organized an ambush. According to American accounts, a local militia led by Israel Fearing led 140 men to the waterfront. The patriots lay in wait behind stone walls and in swamps until the British were standing on top of them. They leapt out into murderous defense and saved the town.
Grey’s report of the battle, however, contradicts this. He wrote, “I proceeded without loss of time to destroy the Vessels and Stores in the whole extent of Accushnet [sic] River … particularly at Bedford and Fair Haven.” Other British reports similarly fail to recount significant resistance in Fairhaven. But no homes were burned down on that side of the harbor.
Still, wharves, ships, and warehouses were lost in New Bedford, Fairhaven, and Dartmouth. And the fortunes of the young port suffered for a generation because of their fight for liberty.
“Forty to fifty whaling ships called New Bedford home at the start of the American Revolution, but the industry ground to a halt after hostilities began,” Neill wrote. It wasn’t until the 1820s that the whaling industry, and the city shortly thereafter, fully blossomed.
After destroying these mainland ports, Grey turned to the islands, stealing more than 10,000 sheep and 300 cattle from Martha’s Vineyard to feed his ravenous army.
Overall, Grey’s raid was a steep loss for New Bedford, Dartmouth, and the Vineyard. And five years of war lay ahead before Great Britain and a new nation, the United States, signed a peace treaty at the Hôtel d’York in Paris.
“The old house at the top of Potter’s Hill”
Elihu Akin, the man who’d expelled the Tories from Dartmouth, retreated with his family to a forgotten farmhouse. “The Akin family lost everything,” wrote Peggi Medeiros, a historian, “except the house on Potter’s Hill and surrounding land.”
That home, today on land owned by the Town of Dartmouth, stands at the corner of Rockland and Dartmouth streets. There Elihu lived out the rest of his days. There his children were raised, enjoying one of the earliest stone chimneys built in town. Their descendants, including the famed gambler Richard Canfield, would live great American lives, and the house itself later was the “Old Homestead” in a 1922 feature film, “Down to the Sea in Ships.”
A nonprofit has restored the Akin House to its late 1700s appearance and unearthed archaeological remnants from its historical tenants, including silverware and pottery. There are no regular hours to visit, but the nonprofit, the Dartmouth Heritage Preservation Trust, says it welcomes visitors by appointment.
Inside, some of the original beams crisscross the low ceiling, and a large stone hearth is adorned with pictures of the home both during and before its restoration. There is no running water, nor most of the modern comforts that Dartmouth residents now enjoy.
The nonprofit’s leaders recently agreed to a one-year lease extension after fighting with the town over whether they ought to pay rent. Diane Gilbert, president of the nonprofit, said her goal is that “this building must be viable for another 250 years.” The new lease ticks off one year in that centuries-long goal.
Inside the farmhouse, ordinary objects become treasures. Yellowing wallpaper has outlasted nations. Floorboards that once rattled as an army marched by now groan. Blades of grass sway on the lawn that once breathed the smoke of the city’s burning.
As America reaches her 250th, this home is a quaint, sometimes overlooked reminder of the battle that set New Bedford ablaze — and that history can live on every corner, if we remember to preserve it.
Email Colin Hogan at chogan@newbedfordlight.org.
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On the west side of County Street between North Street and Mill Street, is a monument erected by the Daughters of the American Revolution. Memorializing three young men who gave their lives in the Battle of Bedford Village in 1778. This Monument to me is the most significant Monument in our City’s history yet few know of its existence
Thanks for publishing this important bit of local history. It’s good example of what the N B Light offers. A wide variety of local news coupled with interesting features like this story.
A mad king sends his invaders.
An excellent piece on our rich local history.
More. please.
This article was very well written I enjoyed, I come from a Boxing family Known as Perry’s from Marstons Mills, That all seven were golden glovers
and very good, You might had heard the name, that was in the 40s and50s.
Thank you for this piece of local 250th history to life. This is what should be happening in every city and town to honor the courage of those who who fought to give freedom. Now we must work to keep it.
Only passed by that house everyday for at least 20+ years and had no idea of its history. Thank you
The ridgeline on that home was left extremely bowed after renovation. It doesn’t look right even if the wood is original. Water accumulates in an unconventional way on the roof, facilitating damage.
It looks more like a home for Disney characters. Over $750k has been spent on that building to maintain its age. I hope the stewards know what they are doing.
The Dartmouth Heritage Preservation Trust is grateful to the “New Bedford Light” and especially Colin Hogan for this well-written and well-researchedarticle. We haven’t heard remarks about the “bowed ridgeline” for quite some time. To a few it doesn’t look right, but to others it’s fine and part of this 264 year old house. The decision to retain the ridgeline was made by Anne W. “Pete” Baker (1929-2011), a consultant for WHALE in ca. 2004-05, when the dormer on the east elevation of the house was removed. It was deemed a better solution than to take a risk to try to correct it. Others more expert than I agreed. Saving an early house is not the end of preservation, it’s just the beginning. The legacy of this house is that it’s still standing proudly and we caretakers continue our steadfast mission every single day. Pete Baker coined the phrase “The Little House with a Big Story to Tell.” And the community has been captivated by its history ever since. As Tony Souza, past WHALE executive director, liked to say, “Preservation is not for the faint of heart.” Since 2007, the Dartmouth Heritage Preservation Trust (https://dhpt.org/) has continued the mission. The Revolutionary War 250th commemorations underscore the important history of this house and its inhabitants whose stories are told in the modern-day. The Akin House is a witness site and a symbol for the 18th century passions and perseverance in the fight for independence so long ago that we carry forward to this day.