1690-1697.
New France and New England.
The Frontier of New England • Border Warfare • Motives of the French •
Needless Barbarity • Who were answerable? • Father Thury • The Abenakis
waver • Treachery at Pemaquid • Capture of Pemaquid • Projected Attack on
Boston • Disappointment • Miseries of the Frontier • A Captive Amazon.
"This stroke," says Villebon, speaking of the success at Oyster River,
"is of great advantage, because it breaks off all the talk of peace
between our Indians and the English. The English are in despair, for not
even infants in the cradle were spared." [1]
[1] "Ce coup est très-avantageux, parcequ'il rompte tous les pour-parlers
de paix entre nos sauvages et les Anglois. Les Anglois sont au désespoir
de ce qu'ils ont tué jusqu'aux enfants au berceau." Villebon au Ministre,
19 Sept., 1694.
I have given the story in detail, as showing the origin and character of
the destructive raids, of which New England annalists show only the
results. The borders of New England were peculiarly vulnerable. In
Canada, the settlers built their houses in lines, within supporting
distance of each other, along the margin of a river which supplied easy
transportation for troops; and, in time of danger, they all took refuge
in forts under command of the local seigniors, or of officers with
detachments of soldiers. The exposed part of the French colony extended
along the St. Lawrence about ninety miles. The exposed frontier of New
England was between two and three hundred miles long, and consisted of
farms and hamlets, loosely scattered through an almost impervious forest.
Mutual support was difficult or impossible. A body of Indians and
Canadians, approaching secretly and swiftly, dividing into small bands,
and falling at once upon the isolated houses of an extensive district,
could commit prodigious havoc in a short time, and with little danger.
Even in so-called villages, the houses were far apart, because, except on
the sea-shore, the people lived by farming. Such as were able to do so
fenced their dwellings with palisades, or built them of solid timber,
with loopholes, a projecting upper story like a blockhouse, and sometimes
a flanker at one or more of the corners. In the more considerable
settlements, the largest of these fortified houses was occupied, in time
of danger, by armed men, and served as a place of refuge for the
neighbors. The palisaded house defended by Convers at Wells was of this
sort, and so also was the Woodman house at Oyster River. These were
"garrison houses," properly so called, though the name was often given to
fortified dwellings occupied only by the family. The French and Indian
war-parties commonly avoided the true garrison houses, and very rarely
captured them, except unawares; for their tactics were essentially
Iroquois, and consisted, for the most part, in pouncing upon peaceful
settlers by surprise, and generally in the night. Combatants and
non-combatants were slaughtered together. By parading the number of
slain, without mentioning that most of them were women and children, and
by counting as forts mere private houses surrounded with palisades,
Charlevoix and later writers have given the air of gallant exploits to
acts which deserve a very different name. To attack military posts, like
Casco and Pemaquid, was a legitimate act of war; but systematically to
butcher helpless farmers and their families can hardly pass as such,
except from the Iroquois point of view.
The chief alleged motive for this ruthless warfare was to prevent the
people of New England from invading Canada, by giving them employment at
home; though, in fact, they had never thought of invading Canada till
after these attacks began. But for the intrigues of Denonville, the
Bigots, Thury, and Saint-Castin, before war was declared, and the
destruction of Salmon Falls after it, Phips's expedition would never have
taken place. By successful raids against the borders of New England,
Frontenac roused the Canadians from their dejection, and prevented his
red allies from deserting him; but, in so doing, he brought upon himself
an enemy who, as Charlevoix himself says, asked only to be let alone. If
here was a political necessity for butchering women and children on the
frontier of New England, it was a necessity created by the French
themselves.
There was no such necessity. Massachusetts was the only one of the New
England colonies which took an aggressive part in the contest.
Connecticut did little or nothing. Rhode Island was non-combatant through
Quaker influence; and New Hampshire was too weak for offensive war.
Massachusetts was in no condition to fight, nor was she impelled to do so
by the home government. Canada was organized for war, and must fight at
the bidding of the king, who made the war and paid for it. Massachusetts
was organized for peace; and, if she chose an aggressive part, it was at
her own risk and her own cost. She had had fighting enough already
against infuriated savages far more numerous than the Iroquois, and
poverty and political revolution made peace a necessity to her. If there
was danger of another attack on Quebec, it was not from New England, but
from Old; and no amount of frontier butchery could avert it.
Nor, except their inveterate habit of poaching on Acadian fisheries, had
the people of New England provoked these barbarous attacks. They never
even attempted to retaliate them, though the settlements of Acadia
offered a safe and easy revenge. Once, it is true, they pillaged
Beaubassin; but they killed nobody, though countless butcheries in
settlements yet more defenceless were fresh in their memory. [2]
[2] The people of Beaubassin had taken an oath of allegiance to England
in 1690, and pleaded it as a reason for exemption from plunder; but it
appears by French authorities that they had violated it (Observations sur
les Depêches touchant l'Acadie, 1695), and their priest Baudoin had led a
band of Micmacs to the attack of Wells (Villebon, Journal). When the
"Bostonnais" captured Port Royal, they are described by the French as
excessively irritated by the recent slaughter at Salmon Falls, yet the
only revenge they took was plundering some of the inhabitants.
With New York, a colony separate in government and widely sundered in
local position, the case was different. Its rulers had instigated the
Iroquois to attack Canada, possibly before the declaration of war, and
certainly after it; and they had no right to complain of reprisal. Yet
the frontier of New York was less frequently assailed, because it was
less exposed; while that of New England was drenched in blood, because it
was open to attack, because the Abenakis were convenient instruments for
attacking it, because the adhesion of these tribes was necessary to the
maintenance of French power in Acadia, and because this adhesion could
best be secured by inciting them to constant hostility against the
English. They were not only needed as the barrier of Canada against New
England, but the French commanders hoped, by means of their tomahawks, to
drive the English beyond the Piscataqua, and secure the whole of Maine to
the French crown.
Who were answerable for these offences against Christianity and
civilization? First, the king; and, next, the governors and military
officers who were charged with executing his orders, and who often
executed them with needless barbarity. But a far different responsibility
rests on the missionary priests, who hounded their converts on the track
of innocent blood. The Acadian priests are not all open to this charge.
Some of them are even accused of being too favorable to the English;
while others gave themselves to their proper work, and neither abused
their influence, nor perverted their teaching to political ends. The most
prominent among the apostles of carnage, at this time, are the Jesuit
Bigot on the Kennebec, and the seminary priest Thury on the Penobscot.
There is little doubt that the latter instigated attacks on the English
frontier before the war, and there is conclusive evidence that he had a
hand in repeated forays after it began. Whether acting from fanaticism,
policy, or an odious compound of both, he was found so useful, that the
minister Ponchartrain twice wrote him letters of commendation, praising
him in the same breath for his care of the souls of the Indians and his
zeal in exciting them to war. "There is no better man," says an Acadian
official, "to prompt the savages to any enterprise." [3] The king was
begged to reward him with money; and Ponchartrain wrote to the bishop of
Quebec to increase his pay out of the allowance furnished by the
government to the Acadian clergy, because he, Thury, had persuaded the
Abenakis to begin the war anew. [4]
[3] Tibièrge, Mémoire sur l'Acadie, 1695.
[4] "Les témoignages qu'on a rendu à Sa Majesté de l'affection et du zêle
du Sr. de Thury, missionaire chez les Canibas (Abenakis), pour son
service, et particulièrement dans l'engagement où il a mis les Sauvages
de recommencer la guerre contre les Anglois, m'oblige de vous prier de
luy faire une plus forte part sur les 1,500 livres de gratification que
Sa Majesté accorde pour les ecclésiastiques de l'Acadie." Le Ministre à
l'Évesque de Québec, 16 Avril, 1695.
"Je suis bien aise de me servir de cette occasion pour vous dire que j'ay
esté informé, non seulement de vostre zêle et de vostre application pour
vostre mission, et du progrès qu'elle fait pour l'avancement de la
religion avec les sauvages, mais encore de vos soins pour les maintenir
dans le service de Sa Majesté et pour les encourager aux expeditions de
guerre." Le Ministre à Thury, 23 Avril, 1697. The other letter to Thury,
written two years before, is of the same tenor.
The French missionaries are said to have made use of singular methods to
excite their flocks against the heretics. The Abenaki chief Bomaseen,
when a prisoner at Boston in 1696, declared that they told the Indians
that Jesus Christ was a Frenchman, and his mother, the Virgin, a French
lady; that the English had murdered him, and that the best way to gain
his favor was to revenge his death. [5]
[5] Mather, Magnalia, II. 629. Compare Dummer, Memorial, 1709, in Mass.
Hist. Coll., 3 Ser., I., and the same writer's Letter to a Noble Lord
concerning the Late Expedition to Canada, 1712. Dr. Charles T. Jackson,
the geologist, when engaged in the survey of Maine in 1836, mentions, as
an example of the simplicity of the Acadians of Madawaska, that one of
them asked him "if Bethlehem, where Christ was born, was not a town in
France." First Report on the Geology of Maine, 72. Here, perhaps, is a
tradition from early missionary teaching.
Whether or not these articles of faith formed a part of the teachings of
Thury and his fellow-apostles, there is no doubt that it was a recognized
part of their functions to keep their converts in hostility to the
English, and that their credit with the civil powers depended on their
success in doing so. The same holds true of the priests of the mission
villages in Canada. They avoided all that might impair the warlike spirit
of the neophyte, and they were well aware that in savages the warlike
spirit is mainly dependent on native ferocity. They taught temperance,
conjugal fidelity, devotion to the rites of their religion, and
submission to the priest; but they left the savage a savage still. In
spite of the remonstrances of the civil authorities, the mission Indian
was separated as far as possible from intercourse with the French, and
discouraged from learning the French tongue. He wore a crucifix, hung
wampum on the shrine of the Virgin, told his beads, prayed three times a
day, knelt for hours before the Host, invoked the saints, and confessed
to the priest; but, with rare exceptions, he murdered, scalped, and
tortured like his heathen countrymen. [6]
[6] The famous Ouréhaoué, who had been for years under the influence of
the priests, and who, as Charlevoix says, died "un vrai Chrétien," being
told on his death-bed how Christ was crucified by the Jews, exclaimed
with fervor: "Ah! why was not I there? I would have revenged him: I would
have had their scalps." La Potherie, IV. 91. Charlevoix, after his
fashion on such occasions, suppresses the revenge and the scalping, and
instead makes the dying Christian say, "I would have prevented them from
so treating my God."
The savage custom of forcing prisoners to run the gauntlet, and sometimes
beating them to death as they did so, was continued at two, if not all,
of the mission villages down to the end of the French domination. General
Stark of the Revolution, when a young man, was subjected to this kind of
torture at St. Francis, but saved himself by snatching a club from one of
the savages, and knocking the rest to the right and left as he ran. The
practice was common, and must have had the consent of the priests of the
mission.
At the Sulpitian mission of the Mountain of Montreal, unlike the rest,
the converts were taught to speak French and practise mechanical arts.
The absence of such teaching in other missions was the subject of
frequent complaint, not only from Frontenac, but from other officers. La
Motte-Cadillac writes bitterly on the subject, and contrasts the conduct
of the French priests with that of the English ministers, who have taught
many Indians to read and write, and reward them for teaching others in
turn, which they do, he says, with great success. Mémoire contenant une
Description détaillée de l'Acadie, etc., 1693. In fact, Eliot and his
co-workers took great pains in this respect. There were at this time
thirty Indian churches in New England, according to the Diary of
President Stiles, cited by Holmes.
The picture has another side, which must not pass unnoticed. Early in the
war, the French of Canada began the merciful practice of buying English
prisoners, and especially children, from their Indian allies. After the
first fury of attack, many lives were spared for the sake of this ransom.
Sometimes, but not always, the redeemed captives were made to work for
their benefactors. They were uniformly treated well, and often with such
kindness that they would not be exchanged, and became Canadians by
adoption.
Villebon was still full of anxiety as to the adhesion of the Abenakis.
Thury saw the danger still more clearly, and told Frontenac that their
late attack at Oyster River was due more to levity than to any other
cause; that they were greatly alarmed, wavering, half stupefied, afraid
of the English, and distrustful of the French, whom they accused of using
them as tools. [7] It was clear that something must be done; and nothing
could answer the purpose so well as the capture of Pemaquid, that English
stronghold which held them in constant menace, and at the same time
tempted them by offers of goods at a low rate. To the capture of
Pemaquid, therefore, the French government turned its thoughts.
[7] Thury à Frontenac, 11 Sept., 1694.
One Pascho Chubb, of Andover, commanded the post, with a garrison of
ninety-five militia-men. Stoughton, governor of Massachusetts, had
written to the Abenakis, upbraiding them for breaking the peace, and
ordering them to bring in their prisoners without delay. The Indians of
Bigot's mission, that is to say, Bigot in their name, retorted by a
letter to the last degree haughty and abusive. Those of Thury's mission,
however, were so anxious to recover their friends held in prison at
Boston that they came to Pemaquid, and opened a conference with Chubb.
The French say that they meant only to deceive him. [8] This does not
justify the Massachusetts officer, who, by an act of odious treachery,
killed several of them, and captured the chief, Egeremet. Nor was this
the only occasion on which the English had acted in bad faith. It was but
playing into the hands of the French, who saw with delight that the folly
of their enemies had aided their own intrigues. [9]
[8] Villebon, Journal, 1694-1696.
[9] N. Y. Col Docs., IX. 613, 616, 642, 643; La Potherie, III. 258;
Calières au Ministre, 25 Oct., 1695; Rev. John Pike to Governor and
Council, 7 Jan., 1694 (1695), in Johnston, Hist. of Bristol and Bremen;
Hutchinson, Hist. Mass., II. 81, 90.
Early in 1696, two ships of war, the "Envieux" and the "Profond," one
commanded by Iberville and the other by Bonaventure, sailed from
Rochefort to Quebec, where they took on board eighty troops and
Canadians; then proceeded to Cape Breton, embarked thirty Micmac Indians,
and steered for the St. John. Here they met two British frigates and a
provincial tender belonging to Massachusetts. A fight ensued. The forces
were very unequal. The "Newport," of twenty-four guns, was dismasted and
taken; but her companion frigate along with the tender escaped in the
fog. The French then anchored at the mouth of the St. John, where
Villebon and the priest Simon were waiting for them, with fifty more
Micmacs. Simon and the Indians went on board; and they all sailed for
Pentegoet, where Villieu, with twenty-five soldiers, and Thury and
Saint-Castin, with some three hundred Abenakis, were ready to join them.
After the usual feasting, these new allies paddled for Pemaquid; the
ships followed; and on the next day, the fourteenth of August, they all
reached their destination.
The fort of Pemaquid stood at the west side of the promontory of the same
name, on a rocky point at the mouth of Pemaquid River. It was a
quadrangle, with ramparts of rough stone, built at great pains and cost,
but exposed to artillery, and incapable of resisting heavy shot. The
government of Massachusetts, with its usual military fatuity, had placed
it in the keeping of an unfit commander, and permitted some of the yeoman
garrison to bring their wives and children to this dangerous and
important post.
Saint-Castin and his Indians landed at New Harbor, half a league from the
fort. Troops and cannon were sent ashore; and, at five o'clock in the
afternoon, Chubb was summoned to surrender. He replied that he would
fight, "even if the sea were covered with French ships and the land with
Indians." The firing then began; and the Indian marksmen, favored by the
nature of the ground, ensconced themselves near the fort, well covered
from its cannon. During the night, mortars and heavy ships' guns were
landed, and by great exertion were got into position, the two priests
working lustily with the rest. They opened fire at three o'clock on the
next day. Saint-Castin had just before sent Chubb a letter, telling him
that, if the garrison were obstinate, they would get no quarter, and
would be butchered by the Indians. Close upon this message followed four
or five bomb-shells. Chubb succumbed immediately, sounded a parley, and
gave up the fort, on condition that he and his men should be protected
from the Indians, sent to Boston, and exchanged for French and Abenaki
prisoners. They all marched out without arms; and Iberville, true to his
pledge, sent them to an island in the bay, beyond the reach of his red
allies. Villieu took possession of the fort, where an Indian prisoner was
found in irons, half dead from long confinement. This so enraged his
countrymen that a massacre would infallibly have taken place but for the
precaution of Iberville.
The cannon of Pemaquid were carried on board the ships, and the small
arms and ammunition given to the Indians. Two days were spent in
destroying the works, and then the victors withdrew in triumph.
Disgraceful as was the prompt surrender of the fort, it may be doubted
if, even with the best defence, it could have held out many days; for it
had no casemates, and its occupants were defenceless against the
explosion of shells. Chubb was arrested for cowardice on his return, and
remained some months in prison. After his release, he returned to his
family at Andover, twenty miles from Boston; and here, in the year
following, he and his wife were killed by Indians, who seem to have
pursued him to this apparently safe asylum to take revenge for his
treachery toward their countrymen. [10]
[10] Baudoin, Journal d'un Voyage fait avec M. d'Iberville. Baudoin was
an Acadian priest, who accompanied the expedition, which he describes in
detail. Relation de ce qui s'est passé, etc., 1695, 1696; Des Goutins au
Ministre, 23 Sept., 1696; Hutchinson, Hist. Mass., II. 89; Mather,
Magnalia, II. 633. A letter from Chubb, asking to be released from
prison, is preserved in the archives of Massachusetts. I have examined
the site of the fort, the remains of which are still distinct.
The people of Massachusetts, compelled by a royal order to build and
maintain Pemaquid, had no love for it, and underrated its importance.
Having been accustomed to spend their money as they themselves saw fit,
they revolted at compulsion, though exercised for their good. Pemaquid
was nevertheless of the utmost value for the preservation of their hold
on Maine, and its conquest was a crowning triumph to the French.
The conquerors now projected a greater exploit. The Marquis de Nesmond,
with a powerful squadron of fifteen ships, including some of the best in
the royal navy, sailed for Newfoundland, with orders to defeat an English
squadron supposed to be there, and then to proceed to the mouth of the
Penobscot, where he was to be joined by the Abenaki warriors and fifteen
hundred troops from Canada. The whole united force was then to fall upon
Boston. The French had an exact knowledge of the place. Meneval, when a
prisoner there, lodged in the house of John Nelson, had carefully
examined it; and so also had the Chevalier d'Aux; while La Motte-Cadillac
had reconnoitred the town and harbor before the war began. An accurate
map of them was made for the use of the expedition, and the plan of
operations was arranged with great care. Twelve hundred troops and
Canadians were to land with artillery at Dorchester, and march at once to
force the barricade across the neck of the peninsula on which the town
stood. At the same time, Saint-Castin was to land at Noddle's Island,
with a troop of Canadians and all the Indians; pass over in canoes to
Charlestown; and, after mastering it, cross to the north point of Boston,
which would thus be attacked at both ends. During these movements, two
hundred soldiers were to seize the battery on Castle Island, and then
land in front of the town near Long Wharf, under the guns of the fleet.
Boston had about seven thousand inhabitants, but, owing to the seafaring
habits of the people, many of its best men were generally absent; and, in
the belief of the French, its available force did not much exceed eight
hundred. "There are no soldiers in the place," say the directions for
attack, "at least there were none last September, except the garrison
from Pemaquid, who do not deserve the name." An easy victory was
expected. After Boston was taken, the land forces, French and Indian,
were to march on Salem, and thence northward to Portsmouth, conquering as
they went; while the ships followed along the coast to lend aid, when
necessary. All captured places were to be completely destroyed after
removing all valuable property. A portion of this plunder was to be
abandoned to the officers and men, in order to encourage them, and the
rest stowed in the ships for transportation to France. [11]
[11] Mémoire sur l'Entreprise de Boston, pour M. le Marquis de Nesmond,
Versailles, 21 Avril, 1697; Instruction à M. le Marquis de Nesmond, même
date; Le Roy à Frontenac, même date; Le Roy à Frontenac et Champigny 27
Avril, 1697; Le Ministre à Nesmond, 28 Avril, 1697; Ibid., 15 Juin, 1697;
Frontenac au Ministre, 15 Oct., 1697; Carte de Baston, par le Sr.
Franquelin, 1697. This is the map made for the use of the expedition. A
fac-simile of it is before me. The conquest of New York had originally
formed part of the plan. Lagny au Ministre, 20 Jan., 1695. Even as it
was, too much was attempted, and the scheme was fatally complicated by
the operations at Newfoundland. Four years before, a projected attack on
Quebec by a British fleet, under Admiral Wheeler, had come to nought from
analogous causes.
The French spared no pains to gain accurate information as to the
strength of the English settlements. Among other reports on this subject
there is a curious Mémoire sur les Établissements anglois au delà de
Pemaquid, jusqu'a Baston. It was made just after the capture of Pemaquid,
with a view to farther operations. Saco is described as a small fort a
league above the mouth of the river Saco, with four cannon, but fit only
to resist Indians. At Wells, it says, all the settlers have sought refuge
in four petits forts, of which the largest holds perhaps 20 men, besides
women and children. At York, all the people have gathered into one fort,
where there are about 40 men. At Portsmouth there is a fort, of slight
account, and about a hundred houses. This neighborhood, no doubt
including Kittery, can furnish at most about 300 men. At the Isles of
Shoals there are some 280 fishermen, who are absent, except on Sundays.
In the same manner, estimates are made for every village and district as
far as Boston.
Notice of the proposed expedition had reached Frontenac in the spring;
and he began at once to collect men, canoes, and supplies for the long
and arduous march to the rendezvous. He saw clearly the uncertainties of
the attempt; but, in spite of his seventy-seven years, he resolved to
command the land force in person. He was ready in June, and waited only
to hear from Nesmond. The summer passed; and it was not till September
that a ship reached Quebec with a letter from the marquis, telling him
that head winds had detained the fleet till only fifty days' provision
remained, and it was too late for action. The enterprise had completely
failed, and even at Newfoundland nothing was accomplished. It proved a
positive advantage to New England, since a host of Indians, who would
otherwise have been turned loose upon the borders, were gathered by
Saint-Castin at the Penobscot to wait for the fleet, and kept there idle
all summer.
It is needless to dwell farther on the war in Acadia. There were petty
combats by land and sea; Villieu was captured and carried to Boston; a
band of New England rustics made a futile attempt to dislodge Villebon
from his fort at Naxouat; while, throughout the contest, rivalry and
jealousy rankled among the French officials, who continually maligned
each other in tell-tale letters to the court. Their hope that the
Abenakis would force back the English boundary to the Piscataqua was
never fulfilled. At Kittery, at Wells, and even among the ashes of York,
the stubborn settlers held their ground, while war-parties prowled along
the whole frontier, from the Kennebec to the Connecticut. A single
incident will show the nature of the situation, and the qualities which
it sometimes called forth.
Early in the spring that followed the capture of Pemaquid, a band of
Indians fell, after daybreak, on a number of farm-houses near the village
of Haverhill. One of them belonged to a settler named Dustan, whose wife
Hannah had borne a child a week before, and lay in the house, nursed by
Mary Neff, one of her neighbors. Dustan had gone to his work in a
neighboring field, taking with him his seven children, of whom the
youngest was two years old. Hearing the noise of the attack, he told them
to run to the nearest fortified house, a mile or more distant, and,
snatching up his gun, threw himself on one of his horses and galloped
towards his own house to save his wife. It was too late: the Indians were
already there. He now thought only of saving his children; and, keeping
behind them as they ran, he fired on the pursuing savages, and held them
at bay till he and his flock reached a place of safety. Meanwhile, the
house was set on fire, and his wife and the nurse carried off. Her
husband, no doubt, had given her up as lost, when, weeks after, she
reappeared, accompanied by Mary Neff and a boy, and bringing ten Indian
scalps. Her story was to the following effect.
The Indians had killed the new-born child by dashing it against a tree,
after which the mother and the nurse were dragged into the forest, where
they found a number of friends and neighbors, their fellows in misery.
Some of these were presently tomahawked, and the rest divided among their
captors. Hannah Dustan and the nurse fell to the share of a family
consisting of two warriors, three squaws, and seven children, who
separated from the rest, and, hunting as they went, moved northward
towards an Abenaki village, two hundred and fifty miles distant, probably
that of the mission on the Chaudière. Every morning, noon, and evening,
they told their beads, and repeated their prayers. An English boy,
captured at Worcester, was also of the party. After a while, the Indians
began to amuse themselves by telling the women that, when they reached
the village, they would be stripped, made to run the gauntlet, and
severely beaten, according to custom.
Hannah Dustan now resolved on a desperate effort to escape, and Mary Neff
and the boy agreed to join in it. They were in the depths of the forest,
half way on their journey, and the Indians, who had no distrust of them,
were all asleep about their camp fire, when, late in the night, the two
women and the boy took each a hatchet, and crouched silently by the bare
heads of the unconscious savages. Then they all struck at once, with
blows so rapid and true that ten of the twelve were killed before they
were well awake. One old squaw sprang up wounded, and ran screeching into
the forest, followed by a small boy whom they had purposely left
unharmed. Hannah Dustan and her companions watched by the corpses till
daylight; then the Amazon scalped them all, and the three made their way
back to the settlements, with the trophies of their exploit. [12]
[12] This story is told by Mather, who had it from the women themselves,
and by Niles, Hutchinson, and others. An entry in the contemporary
journal of Rev. John Pike fully confirms it. The facts were notorious at
the time. Hannah Dustan and her companions received a bounty of £50 for
their ten scalps; and the governor of Maryland, hearing of what they had
done, sent them a present.