One of the most striking features of the massacre in Wyoming Valley, in
July, 1778, was the number of extraordinary individual escapes on the
part of the fleeing patriots and panic-stricken settlers. There is no
episode in American history marked by so many singular, and, indeed,
almost inexplainable incidents, in this respect, as was that disaster
which swept over one of the fairest spots that sun ever shone upon.
In the battle there were, on the patriot side, about two hundred and
thirty enrolled men, and seventy old people, boys, civil magistrates,
and other volunteers, embracing six companies, which were mustered at
Forty Fort, where the families from the east side of the Susquehanna had
taken refuge.
A young man, slight of frame and weak of body, was chased by several
Indians, one of whom was almost close enough to throw his tomahawk. The
fugitive, despite his fleetness, was losing ground, when Zebulon Butler,
one of the last to leave the field, galloped by him on horseback. The
fugitive caught the tail of the animal, and thus helped, made good
progress. But the warriors, knowing he could not keep his hold long,
continued the chase.
Sure enough, the poor fellow speedily lost his hold, and was about to
give up, when he caught sight of a drunken soldier, lying in the
wheat-fields. As Colonel Butler went by, he shouted to the stupid fellow
to fire at the Indians. He roused up, rubbed his eyes, and pointing his
wabbling musket in the direction where he supposed his pursuers to be,
let fly.
The leading warrior dropped dead, and his companions, supposing there
was an ambush in front, turned and ran for life, while the exhausted
fugitive pitched forward on the ground and was saved. Unfortunately,
however, this soldier was not the only intoxicated patriot at Wyoming on
that day.
A wealthy settler, finding a party of Indians at his heels, did his
utmost to throw them off his trail, but failed, and was in despair.
While still struggling forward he came upon the trunk of a large hollow
tree, into which he crept. Knowing the red men would soon be along, he
remained quiet for several hours, scarcely daring to move a limb.
By and by he heard footsteps, and to his consternation, several warriors
actually sat down on the log itself. The murmur of their voices, as they
talked together, was audible, and he saw no way by which he could escape
discovery.
The opening in the log through which he had crawled was in plain sight
of the Indians, who stooped down and peered in.
The fugitive saw the painted faces, as they strained their eyes to
pierce the gloom, and he was certain they would detect him as soon as
they became used to the darkness.
But shortly after he crawled into the refuge a spider spun his web
across the opening, and the quick eye of the warriors noted it. With
good reason they accepted it as a proof that no one had taken refuge
there, and they accordingly left.
The fugitives, whose history we have set out to give, crouched behind
the rocks in the woods, and tremblingly listened to the approaching
footsteps, that all believed were those of Indians.
The gathering twilight was already strong enough in the wilderness to
hide them from the observation of any who might stray to that section,
and a fight was almost certain to be the result of detection.
It was noticeable that Habakkuk McEwen took more precaution against
discovery than the African, or even the ladies. He lay flat on his face,
where no one could see him unless he passed directly by the spot.
He kept whispering to the others to be quiet, and to "scrooch" lower,
for the Indians are proverbial for their keen sightedness.
The curiosity of the ladies got the better of their prudence, and each
one peered cautiously from behind the sheltering rock. Aunt Peggy
besought Maggie and Eva to keep out of sight, but all the time she was
thrusting her own head forward and drawing it back again in a way that
was more likely to attract attention to herself than if she remained
stationary.
"If you girls ain't more careful, some of the scand'lous villains--"
At that instant Eva Brainerd sprang to her feet with a faint scream,
and, to the horror of her friends, leaped nimbly upon the rock, then
down to the ground, and ran like a fawn in the direction whence came the
disturbance, and where the outlines of a dark figure were dimly
observed.
"Oh, it's papa! my own papa!" exclaimed the joyful girl, who was caught
in the arms of her no less delighted parent, and pressed to his breast.
"Heaven be thanked!" exclaimed Mr. Brainerd, kissing and embracing the
fond child again and again, and then, holding her hand in his, he fairly
ran toward the bewildered fugitives, who had sprung to their feet as
they recognized him.
Then the laughing, happy Maggie's white arms were thrown around her
father's neck, and both cried for joy.
Mr. Brainerd was in a sorry plight. His coat, vest, and hat were gone,
and his draggling garments were dripping with river water, but it was
his own genial self who stood before them. And when he released his
daughter, he shook the hand of Aunt Peggy warmly, as he did that of
Habakkuk McEwen, who was an old acquaintance, and at whose Indian-like
disguise he laughed.
All were talking, smiling, and congratulating each other for the next
few minutes, and nothing was thought of the peril incurred in giving way
to their feelings at such a time, and in such a place.
But there was one still missing--the loved brother, who had gone so
valiantly in search of his parent. When the latter had told his story,
Maggie asked:
"Papa, where can Fred be?"
"I hope he is safe; but we cannot be sure of it for some time yet. He is
a brave, noble boy. I will never cease to be grateful, if he is spared
to join us."
The father, hiding his own misgivings as best he could, only said that
he and his son (as he always regarded his step-son), were compelled to
separate a short time before, on the other side of the river, and since
a man of his age was able to rejoin his friends, there surely must be
reason to believe that one so young and active as Fred would soon show
himself. So all resolved to hope, though their fears made the hope more
painful than cheering.
"It won't do to stay here," said Mr. Brainerd, when told that they
thought of camping where they were till morning.
"Is the danger imminent?" asked McEwen.
"The Tories and Indians are continually crossing the river, and there
must be at least a hundred on this side; their whole purpose is
massacre. I do not think it possible for us to escape discovery if we
wait another hour."
"Then let's be off!" said Habakkuk, throwing his rifle over his
shoulder, and starting in the direction of the mountains.
"Hold on!" interposed Gimp; "Ise de guide ob dis procession, and if you
takes my place you'll be lost sartin sure."
"All right, go ahead!" assented the other; "only don't be so slow about
it."
"Many of the poor people," explained Mr. Brainerd, as the party made
ready to start, "are following the trails through the woods and
mountains, and they are suffering frightfully--hark!"
As he spoke, the sharp crack of two guns was heard, so close at hand
that all started and looked behind them.
Nothing however was seen, and the elder added, as they resumed their
flight, "Others of our friends have done like us and left the trails,
but without avoiding danger, though they may lessen it."
"But we can't tramp all the way through the woods in this fashion,"
protested Aunt Peggy, as she caught her foot in a root and narrowly
saved herself from falling forward on her hands.
"No; after getting to the other side of the mountains we will work off
to the right and strike the regular Stroudsburg trail, and keep to it
until beyond the reach of the Tories and Indians."
"That's the doctrine I subscribe to," assented Habakkuk; "Mr. Brainerd,
you will take charge of the extra gun, which allows one to each man;
that's three, and we ought to be able to give a good account of
ourselves, though I do hope we shall get through without any more
trouble."
As before, the African acted the part of guide. He had tramped through
these woods so many times that it may be said he was familiar with every
acre. In the preceding winter he and Mr. Brainerd had hunted deer, and
both remembered a romantic spot where there was a natural cavern, not
very deep, which they availed themselves of for shelter when overtaken
by a driving snow-storm.
As Mr. Brainerd recalled the place he directed Gimp to conduct them
thither, it being his purpose to stay there until night should fully
settle upon the wilderness.
His reason for what might seem a singular step was that the sounds of
firing, and the occasional whoops of Indians near at hand, convinced him
that, if they attempted to go much farther while it was so light, they
would be sure to come in collision with some of these savage bands, in
which event it would be hardly possible to escape the loss of several,
if not all the party.
"We will take advantage of the natural fort," said he, "until it is
dark, and then Gravity knows the woods so well, he can lead us through
the mountains to the other side, where we need not hesitate to take the
main trail to Stroudsburg."