Her Education.--Captivity.--Journey to Fort Pitt.--Mother's Farewell
Address.--Murder of her Family.--Preparation of the Scalps.--Indian
Precautions.--Arrival at Fort Pitt, &c.
My education had received as much attention from my parents, as their
situation in a new country would admit. I had been at school some, where
I learned to read in a book that was about half as large as a Bible;
and in the Bible I had read a little. I had also learned the Catechism,
which I used frequently to repeat to my parents, and every night, before
I went to bed, I was obliged to stand up before my mother and repeat
some words that I suppose was a prayer.
My reading, Catechism and prayers, I have long since forgotten; though
for a number of the first years that I lived with the Indians, I
repeated the prayers as often as I had an opportunity. After the
revolutionary war, I remembered the names of some of the letters when I
saw them; but have never read a word since I was taken prisoner. It is
but a few years since a Missionary kindly gave me a Bible, which I am
very fond of hearing my neighbors read to me, and should be pleased to
learn to read it myself; but my sight has been for a number of years, so
dim that I have not been able to distinguish one letter from another.
As I before observed, I got home with the horse very early in the
morning, where I found a man that lived in our neighborhood, and his
sister-in-law who had three children, one son and two daughters. I soon
learned that they had come there to live a short time; but for what
purpose I cannot say. The woman's husband, however, was at that time in
Washington's army, fighting, for his country; and as her brother-in-law
had a house she had lived with him in his absence. Their names I have
forgotten.
Immediately after I got home, the man took the horse to go to his house
after a bag of grain, and took his gun in his hand for the purpose of
killing game, if he should chance to see any.--Our family, as usual,
was busily employed about their common business. Father was shaving an
axe-helve at the side of the house; mother was making preparations for
breakfast;--my two oldest brothers were at work near the barn; and the
little ones, with myself, and the woman and her three children, were in
the house.
Breakfast was not yet ready, when we were alarmed by the discharge of
a number of guns, that seemed to be near. Mother and the women before
mentioned, almost fainted at the report, and every one trembled with
fear. On opening the door, the man and horse lay dead near the house,
having just been shot by the Indians.
I was afterwards informed, that the Indians discovered him at his own
house with his gun, and pursued him to father's, where they shot him as
I have related. They first secured my father, and then rushed into the
house, and without the least resistance made prisoners of my mother,
Robert, Matthew, Betsey, the woman and her three children, and myself,
and then commenced plundering.
My two brothers, Thomas and John, being at the barn, escaped and went to
Virginia, where my grandfather Erwin then lived, as I was informed by
a Mr. Fields, who was at my house about the close of the revolutionary
war.
The party that took us consisted of six Indians and four Frenchmen, who
immediately commenced plundering, as I just observed, and took what
they considered most valuable; consisting principally of bread, meal and
meat. Having taken as much provision as they could carry, they set out
with their prisoners in great haste, for fear of detection, and soon
entered the woods. On our march that day, an Indian went behind us with
a whip, with which he frequently lashed the children to make them keep
up. In this manner we travelled till dark without a mouthful of food
or a drop of water; although we had not eaten since the night before.
Whenever the little children cried for water, the Indians would make
them drink urine or go thirsty. At night they encamped in the woods
without fire and without shelter, where we were watched with the
greatest vigilance. Extremely fatigued, and very hungry, we were
compelled to lie upon the ground supperless and without a drop of water
to satisfy the cravings of our appetites. As in the day time, so the
little ones were made to drink urine in the night if they cried for
water. Fatigue alone brought us a little sleep for the refreshment of
our weary limbs; and at the dawn of day we were again started on our
march in the same order that we had proceeded on the day before. About
sunrise we were halted, and the Indians gave us a full breakfast of
provision that they had brought from my father's house. Each of us being
very hungry, partook of this bounty of the Indians, except father, who
was so much overcome with his situation--so much exhausted by anxiety
and grief, that silent despair seemed fastened upon his countenance, and
he could not be prevailed upon to refresh his sinking nature by the use
of a morsel of food. Our repast being finished, we again resumed our
march, and, before noon passed a small fort that I heard my father say
was called Fort Canagojigge.
That was the only time that I heard him speak from the time we were
taken till we were finally separated the following night.
Towards evening we arrived at the border of a dark and dismal swamp,
which was covered with small hemlocks, or some other evergreen, and
other bushes, into which we were conducted; and having gone a short
distance we stopped to encamp for the night.
Here we had some bread and meat for supper: but the dreariness of our
situation, together with the uncertainty under which we all labored, as
to our future destiny, almost deprived us of the sense of hunger, and
destroyed our relish for food.
Mother, from the time we were taken, had manifested a great degree
of fortitude, and encouraged us to support our troubles without
complaining; and by her conversation seemed to make the distance and
time shorter, and the way more smooth. But father lost all his ambition
in the beginning of our trouble, and continued apparently lost to every
care--absorbed in melancholy. Here, as before, she insisted on the
necessity of our eating; and we obeyed her, but it was done with heavy
hearts.
As soon as I had finished my supper, an Indian took off my shoes and
stockings and put a pair of moccasins on my feet, which my mother
observed; and believing that they would spare my life, even if they
should destroy the other captives, addressed me as near as I can
remember in the following words:--
"My dear little Mary, I fear that the time has arrived when we must
be parted forever. Your life, my child, I think will be spared; but we
shall probably be tomahawked here in this lonesome place by the Indians.
O! how can I part with you my darling? What will become of my sweet
little Mary? Oh! how can I think of your being continued in captivity
without a hope of your being rescued? O that death had snatched you from
my embraces in your infancy; the pain of parting then would have been
pleasing to what it now is; and I should have seen the end of your
troubles!--Alas, my dear! my heart bleeds at the thoughts of what awaits
you; but, if you leave us, remember my child your own name, and the
name of your father and mother. Be careful and not forget your English
tongue. If you shall have an opportunity to get away from the Indians,
don't try to escape; for if you do they will find and destroy you. Don't
forget, my little daughter, the prayers that I have learned you--say
them often; be a good child, and God will bless you. May God bless you
my child, and make you comfortable and happy."
During this time, the Indians stripped the shoes and stockings from the
little boy that belonged to the woman who was taken with us, and put
moccasins on his feet, as they had done before on mine. I was crying. An
Indian took the little boy and myself by the hand, to lead us off from
the company, when my mother exclaimed, "Don't cry Mary--don't cry my
child. God will bless you! Farewell--farewell!"
The Indian led us some distance into the bushes, or woods, and there
lay down with us to spend the night. The recollection of parting with my
tender mother kept me awake, while the tears constantly flowed from
my eyes. A number of times in the night the little boy begged of
me earnestly to run away with him and get clear of the Indians; but
remembering the advice I had so lately received, and knowing the dangers
to which we should be exposed, in travelling without a path and without
a guide, through a wilderness unknown to us, I told him that I would not
go, and persuaded him to lie still till morning.
Early the next morning the Indians and Frenchmen that we had left
the night before, came to us; but our friends were left behind. It is
impossible for any one to form a correct idea of what my feelings were
at the sight of those savages, whom I supposed had murdered my parents
and brothers, sister, and friends, and left them in the swamp to be
devoured by wild beasts! But what could I do? A poor little defenceless
girl; without the power or means of escaping; without a home to go to,
even if I could be liberated; without a knowledge of the direction or
distance to my former place of residence; and without a living friend to
whom to fly for protection, I felt a kind of horror, anxiety, and
dread, that, to me, seemed insupportable. I durst not cry--I durst not
complain; and to inquire of them the fate of my friends (even if I could
have mustered resolution) was beyond my ability, as I could not speak
their language, nor they understand mine. My only relief was in silent
stifled sobs.
My suspicions as to the fate of my parents proved too true; for soon
after I left them they were killed and scalped, together with Robert,
Matthew, Betsey, and the woman and her two children, and mangled in the
most shocking manner.
Having given the little boy and myself some bread and meat for
breakfast, they led us on as fast as we could travel, and one of them
went behind and with a long staff, picked up all the grass and weeds
that we trailed down by going over them. By taking that precaution they
avoided detection; for each weed was so nicely placed in its natural
position that no one would have suspected that we had passed that way.
It is the custom of Indians when scouting, or on private expeditions,
to step carefully and where no impression of their feet can be
left--shunning wet or muddy ground. They seldom take hold of a bush or
limb, and never break one; and by observing those precautions and that
of setting up the weeds and grass which they necessarily lop, they
completely elude the sagacity of their pursuers, and escape that
punishment which they are conscious they merit from the hand of justice.
After a hard day's march we encamped in a thicket, where the Indians
made a shelter of boughs, and then built a good fire to warm and dry
our benumbed limbs and clothing; for it had rained some through the day.
Here we were again fed as before. When the Indians had finished their
supper they took from their baggage a number of scalps and went about
preparing them for the market, or to keep without spoiling, by straining
them over small hoops which they prepared for that purpose, and then
drying and scraping them by the fire. Having put the scalps, yet wet and
bloody, upon the hoops, and stretched them to their full extent, they
held them to the fire till they were partly dried and then with their
knives commenced scraping off the flesh; and in that way they continued
to work, alternately drying and scraping them, till they were dry and
clean. That being done they combed the hair in the neatest manner, and
then painted it and the edges of the scalps yet on the hoops, red. Those
scalps I knew at the time must have been taken from our family by
the color of the hair. My mother's hair was red; and I could easily
distinguish my father's and the children's from each other. That sight
was most appaling; yet, I was obliged to endure it without complaining.
In the course of the night they made me to understand that they should
not have killed the family if the whites had not pursued them.
Mr. Fields, whom I have before mentioned, informed me that at the
time we were taken, he lived in the vicinity of my father; and that on
hearing of our captivity, the whole neighborhood turned out in pursuit
of the enemy, and to deliver us if possible: but that their efforts were
unavailing. They however pursued us to the dark swamp, where they found
my father, his family and companions, stripped and mangled in the most
inhuman manner: That from thence the march of the cruel monsters could
not be traced in any direction; and that they returned to their homes
with the melancholy tidings of our misfortunes, supposing that we had
all shared in the massacre.
The next morning we went on; the Indian going behind us and setting up
the weeds as on the day before. At night we encamped on the ground in
the open air, without a shelter or fire.
In the morning we again set out early, and travelled as on the two
former days, though the weather was extremely uncomfortable, from the
continual falling of rain and snow.
At night the snow fell fast, and the Indians built a shelter of boughs,
and a fire, where we rested tolerably dry through that and the two
succeeding nights.
When we stopped, and before the fire was kindled, I was so much fatigued
from running, and so far benumbed by the wet and cold, that I expected
that I must fail and die before I could get warm and comfortable. The
fire, however, soon restored the circulation, and after I had taken my
supper I felt so that I rested well through the night.
On account of the storm, we were two days at that place. On one of those
days, a party consisting of six Indians who had been to the frontier
settlements, came to where we were, and brought with them one prisoner,
a young white man who was very tired and dejected. His name I have
forgotten.
Misery certainly loves company. I was extremely glad to see him, though
I knew from his appearance, that his situation was as deplorable
as mine, and that he could afford me no kind of assistance. In the
afternoon the Indians killed a deer, which they dressed, and then
roasted it whole; which made them a full meal. We were each allowed
a share of their venison, and some bread, so that we made a good meal
also.
Having spent three nights and two days at that place, and the storm
having ceased, early in the morning the whole company, consisting
of twelve Indians, four Frenchmen, the young man, the little boy and
myself, moved on at a moderate pace without an Indian behind us to
deceive our pursuers.
In the afternoon we came in sight of Fort Pitt (as it is now called,)
where we were halted while the Indians performed some customs upon their
prisoners which they deemed necessary. That fort was then occupied by
the French and Indians, and was called Fort Du Quesne. It stood at the
junction of the Monongahela, which is said to signify, in some of the
Indian languages, the Falling-in-Banks, [Footnote: Navigator.] and the
Alleghany [Footnote: The word Alleghenny, was derived from an ancient
race of Indians called "Tallegawe." The Delaware Indians, instead
of saying "Alleghenny," say "Allegawe," or "Allegawenink," _Western
Tour_--p. 455.] rivers, where the Ohio river begins to take its name.
The word O-hi-o, signifies bloody.
At the place where we halted, the Indians combed the hair of the young
man, the boy and myself, and then painted our faces and hair red, in
the finest Indian style. We were then conducted into the fort, where we
received a little bread, and were then shut up and left to tarry alone
through the night.
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