Now away we must go with those barbarous creatures, with our bodies
wounded and bleeding, and our hearts no less than our bodies. About a
mile we went that night up upon a hill, within sight of the town,
where they intended to lodge. There was hard by a vacant house
(deserted by the English before, for fear of the Indians); I asked
them whether I might not lodge in the house that night, to which they
answered, “What, will you love Englishmen still?” This was the
dolefulest night that ever my eyes saw. Oh, the roaring, and singing,
and dancing, and yelling of those black creatures in the night, which
made the place a lively resemblance of hell! And as miserable was the
waste that was there made, of horses, cattle, sheep, swine, calves,
lambs, roasting pigs, and fowl (which they had plundered in the town),
some roasting, some lying and burning, and some boiling, to feed our
merciless enemies, who were joyful enough, though we were
disconsolate.
To add to the dolefulness of the former day and the dismalness of the
present night, my thoughts ran upon my losses and sad, bereaved
condition. All was gone, my husband gone (at least separated from me,
he being in the Bay; and to add to my grief, the Indians told me they
would kill him as he came homeward), my children gone, my relations
and friends gone, our house and home, and all our comforts within door
and without—all was gone (except my life), and I knew not but the next
moment that might go too.
There remained nothing to me but one poor, wounded babe, and it seemed
at present worse than death, that it was in such a pitiful condition,
bespeaking compassion, and I had no refreshing for it nor suitable
things to revive it. Little do many think what is the savageness and
brutishness of this barbarous enemy ... when the English have fallen
into their hands....