Fred Godfrey was not altogether correct in his dismal prophecy.
Queen Esther, when she found that one of her prisoners was gone, gave
expressions of fury and resumed the march up the river, her warriors
keeping closer watch than before to prevent any other escape.
The procession halted near a boulder which rises about eighteen inches
above the ground, and which may be seen to-day, as it lies directly east
of the battle monument toward the site of burned Fort Wintermoot, on the
brow of the high steep bank, which centuries ago probably marked the
shore of the Susquehanna.
The eighteen prisoners were driven forward until this celebrated boulder
was reached, which has been known ever since by the ominous name of
"Queen Esther's Rock."
Here the captives were ranged in a circle around the stone, while the
queen, with a death-maul and hatchet, proceeded to wreak vengeance upon
her victims for the death of her son, killed by a scouting party, a
short time before the battle.
One after another, the white men were seated upon the rock, and held by
two strong warriors, while the terrible Katharine Montour chanted a wild
dirge, and, raising the death-maul in both hands, dealt the single blow
that was all sufficient.
Occasionally she varied the dreadful ceremony by using a keen-edged
hatchet with her muscular arm, which was as effective as the death-maul
wielded by both hands.
The work went on until eleven victims had been sacrificed, when one of
the men, Lebbeus Hammond, was roused by the sight of his own brother,
who was placed upon the rock, and tightly grasped by two warriors.
It was impossible to do anything for him, but Lebbeus whispered to
Joseph Elliott:
"_Let's try it!_"
On the instant, they wrenched themselves loose from their captors, and
bounded down the river bank.
They expected to be shot, and they preferred such a death to that which
awaited them if they remained.
But the very audacity of the attempt, like that of Fred Godfrey, threw
the Indians into confusion for the moment, and instead of firing they
broke into pursuit, without discharging a weapon.
Fortunately for the fugitives, instead of keeping together they
diverged, Hammond heading up the river. The warriors must have concluded
that they were making for Forty Fort, and shaped their course with the
purpose of shutting them off. The fort lay to the south and below, and,
understanding the aim of the Indians, Hammond turned more directly up
the river.
He was fleet-footed, and ran as never before; but, while straining every
nerve, he caught his foot in a root, and was thrown headlong down the
bank, rolling all in a heap underneath the bushy top of a fallen tree.
He started to scramble to his feet, when, like a flash, it occurred to
him that there was no safer course than to stay where he was.
Only a few seconds passed, when the Indians approached and began hunting
for him. How they failed to discover the young man passes comprehension,
and it was only another of the several wonderful escapes which marked
the massacre of Wyoming.
The savages peered here and there, drawing the bushes aside, and looking
among the old logs. The poor fellow heard their stealthy footsteps all
around him, and caught glimpses of their coppery faces, smeared with
paint, as they uttered some exclamation and almost stepped upon him in
his concealment.
Once he was sure he was detected, and he held his breath, fearful that
the throbbing of his heart would betray him; but the red men moved away,
and shortly after returned to Queen Esther's Rock to help in the
executions going on there.
Hammond stayed where he was until all was still, when he crept
cautiously out, and, swimming the river, made his way to the fort at
Wilkesbarre, where, to his amazement, he found his companion in flight.
The escape of this patriot was no less extraordinary than that of
Hammond.
He had also swum the river to the bar on the lower point of Monocacy
Island, going almost the entire distance under water. Whenever he threw
up his head for a breath of fresh air he was fired upon, and he received
a bad wound in the shoulder.
Although suffering severely from it, he persevered and soon reached the
opposite side, where he found a horse wandering loose and without bridle
or saddle.
With little effort Elliott succeeded in catching him, and with a bridle
improvised from the bark of a hickory sapling, he rode the animal to
Wilkesbarre, where the wound was dressed by a surgeon.
The next morning he went down the river with his wife and child in a
canoe managed by a boy, and joined his friends at Catawissa.
Both Hammond and Elliott lived many years afterward, and are still
remembered by some of the old settlers in Wyoming Valley.