Wawatam was not slow to exert himself for my preservation, but, leaving

Michilimackinac in the night, transported himself and all his lodge to

Point Saint-Ignace, on the opposite side of the strait. Here we remained

till daylight, and then went into the Bay of Boutchitaouy, in which we

spent three days in fishing and hunting, and where we found plenty of

wild fowl. Leaving the bay, we made for the Isle aux Outardes, where we

were obliged to put in, on account of the wind coming ahead. We proposed

sailing for the Sault the next morning.

But when the morning came, Wawatam's wife complained that she was sick,

adding that she had had bad dreams, and knew that if we went to the

Sault we should all be destroyed. To have argued, at this time, against

the infallibility of dreams, would have been extremely unadvisable,

since I should have appeared to be guilty, not only of an odious want of

faith, but also of a still more odious want of sensibility to the

possible calamities of a family which had done so much for the

alleviation of mine. I was silent, but the disappointment seemed to seal

my fate. No prospect opened to console me. The return to Michilimackinac

could only insure my destruction; and to remain at the island was to

brave almost equal danger, since it lay in the direct route between the

fort and the Missisaki, along which the Indians from Detroit were hourly

expected to pass, on the business of their mission. I doubted not but,

taking advantage of the solitary situation of the family, they would

carry into execution their design of killing me.

Unable, therefore, to take any part in the direction of our course, but

a prey, at the same time, to the most anxious thoughts as to my own

condition, I passed all the day on the highest part to which I could

climb, of a tall tree, from whence the lake, on both sides of the

island, lay open to my view. Here I might hope to learn, at the earliest

possible, the approach of canoes, and by this means be warned in time to

conceal myself.

On the second morning I returned, as soon as it was light, to my watch

tower, on which I had not been long before I discovered a sail coming

from Michilimackinac.

The sail was a white one, and much larger than those usually employed by

the northern Indians. I therefore indulged a hope that it might be a

Canadian canoe, on the voyage to Montreal; and that I might be able to

prevail upon the crew to take me with them, and thus release me from all

my troubles.

My hopes continued to gain ground; for I soon persuaded myself that the

manner in which the paddles were used on board the canoe was Canadian,

and not Indian. My spirits were elated; but disappointment had become so

usual with me, that I could not suffer myself to look to the event with

any strength of confidence.

Enough, however, appeared at length to demonstrate itself to induce me

to descend the tree, and repair to the lodge, with my tidings and

schemes of liberty. The family congratulated me on the approach of so

fair an opportunity of escape; and my father and brother, (for he was

alternately each of these) lit his pipe, and presented it to me, saying,

"My son, this may be the last time that ever you and I shall smoke out

of the same pipe! I am sorry to part with you. You know the affection

which I have always borne you, and the dangers to which I have exposed

myself and family, to preserve you from your enemies; and I am happy to

find that my efforts promise not to have been in vain." At this time a

boy came into the lodge, informing us that the canoe had come from

Michilimackinac, and was bound to the Sault de Saint-Marie. It was

manned by three Canadians, and was carrying home Madame Cadotte, the

wife of M. Cadotte, already mentioned.

My hopes of going to Montreal being now dissipated, I resolved on

accompanying Madame Cadotte, with her permission, to the Sault. On

communicating my wishes to Madame Cadotte, she cheerfully acceded to

them. Madame Cadotte, as I have already mentioned, was an Indian woman

of the Chippeway nation, and she was very generally respected.

My departure fixed upon, I returned to the lodge, where I packed up my

wardrobe, consisting of my two shirts, pair of _leggins_, and blanket.

Besides these, I took a gun and ammunition, presenting what remained

further, to my host. I also returned the silver arm bands with which the

family had decorated me the year before.

We now exchanged farewells with an emotion entirely reciprocal. I did

not quit the lodge without the most grateful sense of the many acts of

goodness which I had experienced in it, nor without the sincerest

respect for the virtues which I had witnessed among its members. All the

family accompanied me to the beach; and the canoe had no sooner put off

than Wawatam commenced an address to the Kichi Manito, beseeching him to

take care of me, his brother, till we should next meet. This, he had

told me, would not be long, as he intended to return to Michilimackinac

for a short time only, and would then follow me to the Sault. We had

proceeded to too great a distance to allow of our hearing his voice,

before Wawatam had ceased to offer up his prayers.

Being now no longer in the society of the Indians, I put aside the

dress, putting on that of a Canadian: a molton, or blanket coat, over my

shirt, and a handkerchief about my head, hats being very little worn in

this country.

At daybreak, on the second morning of our voyage, we embarked, and

presently perceived several canoes behind us. As they approached, we

ascertained them to be the fleet, bound for the Missisaki, of which I

had been so long in dread. It amounted to twenty sail.

On coming up with us, and surrounding our canoe, and amid general

inquiries concerning the news, an Indian challenged me for an

Englishman, and his companions supported him by declaring that I looked

very like one; but I affected not to understand any of the questions

which they asked me, and Madame Cadotte assured them that I was a

Canadian, whom she had brought on his first voyage from Montreal.

The following day saw us safely landed at the Sault, where I experienced

a generous welcome from M. Cadotte. There were thirty warriors at this

place, restrained from joining in the war only by M. Cadotte's

influence.

Here, for five days, I was once more in possession of tranquillity; but,

on the sixth, a young Indian came into M. Cadotte's, saying that a canoe

full of warriors had just arrived from Michilimackinac; that they had

inquired for me; and that he believed their intentions to be bad. Nearly

at the same time, a message came from the good chief of the village,

desiring me to conceal myself until he should discover the views and

temper of the strangers.

A garret was the second time my place of refuge; and it was not long

before the Indians came to M. Cadotte's. My friend immediately informed

Mutchikiwish, their chief, who was related to his wife, of the design

imputed to them, of mischief against myself. Mutchikiwish frankly

acknowledged that they had had such a design; but added that, if

displeasing to M. Cadotte, it should be abandoned. He then further

stated, that their errand was to raise a party of warriors to return

with them to Detroit; and that it had been their intention to take me

with them.

In regard to the principal of the two objects thus disclosed, M. Cadotte

proceeded to assemble all the chiefs and warriors of the village; and

these, after deliberating for some time among themselves, sent for the

strangers, to whom both M. Cadotte and the chief of the village

addressed a speech. In these speeches, after recurring to the designs

confessed to have been entertained against myself, who was now declared

to be under the protection of all the chiefs, by whom any insult I might

sustain would be avenged, the ambassadors were peremptorily told that

they might go back as they came, none of the young men of this village

being foolish enough to join them.

A moment after, a report was brought that a canoe had just arrived from

Niagara. As this was a place from which every one was anxious to hear

news, a message was sent to these fresh strangers, requesting them to

come to the council.

The strangers came accordingly, and being seated, a long silence ensued.

At length, one of them, taking up a belt of wampum, addressed himself

thus to the assembly: "My friends and brothers, I am come, with this

belt, from our great father, Sir William Johnson. He desired me to come

to you as his ambassador, and tell you that he is making a great feast

at Fort Niagara; that his kettles are all ready and his fires lit. He

invites you to partake of the feast, in common with your friends, the

Six Nations, who have all made peace with the English. He advises you to

seize this opportunity of doing the same, as you cannot otherwise fail

of being destroyed; for the English are on their march with a great

army, which will be joined by different nations of Indians. In a word,

before the fall of the leaf, they will be at Michilimackinac, and the

Six Nations with them."

The tenor of this speech greatly alarmed the Indians of the Sault, who,

after a very short consultation, agreed to send twenty deputies to Sir

William Johnson, at Niagara. This was a project highly interesting to

me, since it offered me the means of leaving the country. I intimated

this to the chief of the village, and received his promise that I should

accompany the deputation.

Very little time was proposed to be lost, in setting forward on the

voyage; but the occasion was of too much magnitude not to call for more

than human knowledge and discretion; and preparations were accordingly

made for solemnly invoking and consulting the Great Turtle.

For invoking and consulting the Great Turtle, the first thing to be done

was the building of a large house or wigwam, within which was placed a

species of tent, for the use of the priest and reception of the spirit.

The tent was formed of moose skins, hung over a framework of wood. Five

poles, or rather pillars, of five different species of timber, about ten

feet in height, and eight inches in diameter, were set in a circle of

about four feet in diameter. The holes made to receive them were about

two feet deep; and the pillars being set, the holes were filled up

again, with the earth which had been dug out. At top the pillars were

bound together by a circular hoop, or girder. Over the whole of this

edifice, were spread the moose skins, covering it at top and around the

sides, and made fast with thongs of the same; except that on one side a

part was left unfastened, to admit of the entrance of the priest.

The ceremonies did not commence but with the approach of night. To give

light within the house, several fires were kindled round the tent.

Nearly the whole village assembled in the house, and myself among the

rest. It was not long before the priest appeared, almost in a state of

nakedness. As he approached the tent the skins were lifted up, as much

as was necessary to allow of his creeping under them on his hands and

knees. His head was scarcely withinside, when the edifice, massy as it

has been described, began to shake; and the skins were no sooner let

fall, than the sounds of numerous voices were heard beneath them, some

yelling, some barking as dogs, some howling like wolves, and in this

horrible concert were mingled screams and sobs, as of despair, anguish,

and the sharpest pain. Articulate speech was also uttered, as if from

human lips, but in a tongue unknown to any of the audience.

After some time, these confused and frightful noises were succeeded by a

perfect silence; and now a voice, not heard before, seemed to manifest

the arrival of a new character in the tent. This was a low and feeble

voice, resembling the cry of a young puppy. The sound was no sooner

distinguished, than all the Indians clapped their hands for joy,

exclaiming, that this was the Chief Spirit, the Turtle, the spirit that

never lied! Other voices, which they had discriminated from time to

time, they had previously hissed, as recognizing them to belong to evil

and lying spirits, which deceive mankind.

New sounds came from the tent. During the space of half an hour, a

succession of songs were heard, in which a diversity of voices met the

ear. From his first entrance, till these songs were finished, we heard

nothing in the proper voice of the priest; but now, he addressed the

multitude, declaring the presence of the Great Turtle, and the spirit's

readiness to answer such questions as should be proposed.

The questions were to come from the chief of the village, who was

silent, however, till after he had put a large quantity of tobacco into

the tent, introducing it at the aperture. This was a sacrifice offered

to the spirit; for spirits are supposed by the Indians to be as fond of

tobacco as themselves. The tobacco accepted, he desired the priest to

inquire whether or not the English were preparing to make war upon the

Indians; and whether or not there were at fort Niagara a large number of

English troops.

These questions having been put by the priest, the tent instantly shook;

and for some seconds after it continued to rock so violently that I

expected to see it leveled with the ground. All this was a prelude, as

I supposed, to the answers to be given; but a terrific cry announced,

with sufficient intelligibility, the departure of the Turtle.

A quarter of an hour elapsed in silence, and I waited impatiently to

discover what was to be the next incident in this scene of imposture. It

consisted in the return of the spirit, whose voice was again heard, and

who now delivered a continued speech. The language of the Great Turtle,

like that which we had heard before, was wholly unintelligible to every

ear, that of his priest excepted; and it was, therefore, not till the

latter gave us an interpretation, which did not commence before the

spirit had finished, that we learned the purport of this extraordinary

communication.

The spirit, as we were now informed by the priest, had, during his short

absence, crossed lake Huron, and even proceeded as far as fort Niagara,

which is at the head of lake Ontario, and thence to Montreal. At fort

Niagara, he had seen no great number of soldiers; but on descending the

St. Lawrence, as low as Montreal, he had found the river covered with

boats, and the boats filled with soldiers, in number like the leaves of

the trees. He had met them on their way up the river, coming to make war

upon the Indians.

The chief had a third question to propose, and the spirit, without a

fresh journey to fort Niagara, was able to give an instant and most

favorable answer. "If," said the chief, "the Indians visit Sir William

Johnson, will they be received as friends?"

"Sir William Johnson," said the spirit, (and after the spirit the

priest,) "Sir William Johnson will fill their canoes with presents, with

blankets, kettles, guns, gunpowder and shot, and large barrels of rum,

such as the stoutest of the Indians will not be able to lift; and every

man will return in safety to his family."

At this, the transport was universal; and, amid the clapping of hands, a

hundred voices exclaimed, "I will go, too! I will go, too!"

The questions of public interest being resolved, individuals were now

permitted to seize the opportunity of inquiring into the condition of

their absent friends, and the fate of such as were sick. I observed that

the answers, given to these questions, allowed of much latitude of

interpretation.

Amid this general inquisitiveness, I yielded to the solicitations of my

own anxiety for the future; and having first, like the rest, made my

offering of tobacco, I inquired whether or not I should ever revisit my

native country. The question being put by the priest, the tent shook as

usual; after which I received this answer: "That I should take courage,

and fear no danger, for that nothing would happen to hurt me; and that

I should, in the end, reach my friends and country in safety." These

assurances wrought so strongly on my gratitude, that I presented an

additional and extra offering of tobacco.

The Great Turtle continued to be consulted till near midnight, when all

the crowd dispersed to their respective lodges. I was on the watch,

through the scene I have described, to detect the particular

contrivances by which the fraud was carried on; but such was the skill

displayed in the performance, or such my deficiency of penetration, that

I made no discoveries, but came away as I went, with no more than those

general surmises which will naturally be entertained by every reader.

On the 10th of June, I embarked with the Indian deputation, composed of

sixteen men. Twenty had been the number originally designed; and upward

of fifty actually engaged themselves to the council for the undertaking;

to say nothing of the general enthusiasm, at the moment of hearing the

Great Turtle's promises. But exclusively of the degree of timidity which

still prevailed, we are to take into account the various domestic calls,

which might supersede all others, and detain many with their families.

In the evening of the second day of our voyage, we reached the mouth of

the Missisaki, where we found about forty Indians, by whom we were

received with abundant kindness, and at night regaled at a great feast,

held on account of our arrival. The viand was a preparation of the roe

of the sturgeon, beat up, and boiled, and of the consistence of

porridge.

After eating, several speeches were made to us, of which the general

topic was a request that we should recommend the village to Sir William

Johnson. This request was also specially addressed to me, and I promised

to comply with it.

On the 14th of June, we passed the village of La Cloche, of which the

greater part of the inhabitants were absent, being already on a visit to

Sir William Johnson. This circumstance greatly encouraged the companions

of my voyage, who now saw that they were not the first to run into

danger.

The next day, about noon, the wind blowing very hard, we were obliged to

put ashore at Point aux Grondines, a place of which some description has

been given before. While the Indians erected a hut, I employed myself in

making a fire. As I was gathering wood, an unusual sound fixed my

attention for a moment; but, as it presently ceased, and as I saw

nothing from which I could suppose it to proceed, I continued my

employment, till, advancing further, I was alarmed by a repetition. I

imagined that it came from above my head; but after looking that way in

vain, I cast my eyes on the ground, and there discovered a rattlesnake,

at not more than two feet from my naked legs. The reptile was coiled,

and its head raised considerably above its body. Had I advanced another

step before my discovery, I must have trodden upon it.

I no sooner saw the snake than I hastened to the canoe, in order to

procure my gun; but the Indians, observing what I was doing, inquired

the occasion, and being informed, begged me to desist. At the same time

they followed me to the spot, with their pipes and tobacco pouches in

their hands. On returning, I found the snake still coiled.

The Indians, on their part, surrounded it, all addressing it by turns,

and calling it their _grandfather_; but yet keeping at some distance.

During this part of the ceremony they filled their pipes; and now each

blew the smoke toward the snake, who, as it appeared to me, really

received it with pleasure. In a word, after remaining coiled, and

receiving incense, for the space of half an hour, it stretched itself

along the ground in visible good humor. Its length was between four and

five feet. Having remained outstretched for some time, at last it moved

slowly away, the Indians following it, and still addressing it by the

title of grandfather, beseeching it to take care of their families

during their absence, and to be pleased to open the heart of Sir William

Johnson, so that he might _show them charity_, and fill their canoes

with rum.

One of the chiefs added a petition that the snake would take no notice

of the insult which had been offered him by the Englishman, who would

even have put him to death but for the interference of the Indians, to

whom it was hoped he would impute no part of the offense. They further

requested that he would remain and inhabit their country, and not return

among the English, that is, go eastward.

After the rattlesnake was gone, I learned that this was the first time

that an individual of the species had been seen so far to the northward

and westward of the river Des Francais; a circumstance, moreover, from

which my companions were disposed to infer that this _manito_ had come

or been sent on purpose to meet them; that his errand had been no other

than to stop them on their way; and that consequently it would be most

advisable to return to the point of departure. I was so fortunate,

however, as to prevail with them to embark; and at six o'clock in the

evening we again encamped. Very little was spoken of through the

evening, the rattlesnake excepted.

Early the next morning we proceeded. We had a serene sky and very little

wind, and the Indians therefore determined on steering across the lake

to an island which just appeared in the horizon; saving, by this

course, a distance of thirty miles, which would be lost in keeping the

shore. At nine o'clock, A.M., we had a light breeze astern, to enjoy the

benefit of which we hoisted sail. Soon after the wind increased, and the

Indians, beginning to be alarmed, frequently called on the rattlesnake

to come to their assistance. By degrees the waves grew high; and at

eleven o'clock it blew a hurricane, and we expected every moment to be

swallowed up. From prayers the Indians now proceeded to sacrifices, both

alike offered to the god rattlesnake, or _manito kinibic_. One of the

chiefs took a dog, and after tying its fore legs together, threw it

overboard, at the same time calling on the snake to preserve us from

being drowned, and desiring him to satisfy his hunger with the carcass

of the dog. The snake was unpropitious, and the wind increased. Another

chief sacrificed another dog, with the addition of some tobacco. In the

prayer which accompanied these gifts, he besought the snake, as before,

not to avenge upon the Indians the insult which he had received from

myself, in the conception of a design to put him to death. He assured

the snake that I was absolutely an Englishman, and of kin neither to him

nor to them.

At the conclusion of this speech, an Indian who sat near me observed,

that if we were drowned it would be for my fault alone, and that I ought

myself to be sacrificed, to appease the angry manito; nor was I without

apprehensions that in case of extremity this would be my fate; but

happily for me, the storm at length abated, and we reached the island

safely.

The next day was calm, and we arrived at the entrance of the navigation

which leads to lake Aux Claies. (This lake is now called lake Simcoe.)

We presently passed two short carrying-places, at each of which were

several lodges of Indians, (these Indians are Chippeways, of the

particular description called Missisakies; and from their residence at

Matchedash, or Matchitashk, also called Matchedash or Matchitashk

Indians,) containing only women and children, the men being gone to the

council at Niagara. From this, as from a former instance, my companions

derived new courage.

On the 18th of June, we crossed lake Aux Claies, which appeared to be

upwards of twenty miles in length. At its further end we came to the

carrying-place of Toronto. Here the Indians obliged me to carry a burden

of more than a hundred pounds weight. The day was very hot, and the

woods and marshes abounded with musquitoes; but the Indians walked at a

quick pace, and I could by no means see myself left behind. The whole

country was a thick forest, through which our only road was a foot-path,

or such as, in America, is exclusively termed an _Indian path_.

Next morning at ten o'clock, we reached the store of lake Ontario. Here

we were employed two days in making canoes out of the bark of the elm

tree, in which we were to transport ourselves to Niagara. For this

purpose the Indians first cut down a tree; then stripped off the bark in

one entire sheet of about eighteen feet in length, the incision being

lengthwise. The canoe was now complete as to its top, bottom, and sides.

Its ends were next closed by sewing the bark together; and a few ribs

and bars being introduced, the architecture was finished. In this manner

we made two canoes, of which one carried eight men and the other nine.

On the 21st, we embarked at Toronto, and encamped in the evening four

miles short of fort Niagara, which the Indians would not approach till

morning.

At dawn, the Indians were awake, and presently assembled in council,

still doubtful as to the fate they were to encounter, I assured them of

the most friendly welcome; and at length, after painting themselves with

the most lively colors, in token of their own peaceable views, and after

singing the song which is in use among them on going into danger, they

embarked, and made for point Missisaki, which is on the north side of

the mouth of the river or strait of Niagara, as the fort is on the

south. A few minutes after I crossed over to the fort; and here I was

received by Sir William Johnson, in a manner for which I have ever been

gratefully attached to his person and memory.

Thus was completed my escape from the sufferings and dangers which the

capture of fort Michilimackinac brought upon me; but the property which

I had carried into the upper country was left behind. The reader will

therefore be far from attributing to me any idle or unaccountable

motive, when he finds me returning to the scene of my misfortunes.

FOOTNOTES:

[61] The Panies are an Indian nation of the South.

NARRATIVE OF THE CAPTIVITY

OF

FRANCES NOBLE.

James Whidden, the maternal grandfather of Mrs. Shute, was a captain in

the army at the taking of Cape Breton in 1745. He owned a tract of land

on Swan Island, in the river Kennebec, where he lived with his family.

One of his daughters married Lazarus Noble, of Portsmouth, who lived on

the island with her father. The Indians had been accustomed to visit

Capt. Whidden for the purposes of trade. There was a garrison on the

island to secure the inhabitants from the attacks of the enemy in time

of war.

One morning, about the year 1755, a little after daybreak, two boys went

out of the garrison and left the gate open. The Indians were on the

watch, and, availing themselves of the opportunity, about ninety entered

the garrison. The inhabitants immediately discovered that the enemy was

upon them; but there was no escape. Captain Whidden and his wife

retreated to the cellar, and concealed themselves. Noble and his hired

man met the Indians at the head of the stairs, and fired upon them,

wounding one of them in the arm. The Indians did not return the fire,

but took Noble, his wife and seven children, with Timothy Whidden and

Mary Holmes, prisoners. The hired man and two boys escaped. The captives

were carried to the water's side and bound; excepting such as could not

run away. The Indians then returned to the garrison, burnt the barn and

plundered the house, cut open the feather beds, strewed the feathers in

the field, and carried off all the silver and gold they could find, and

as much of the provisions as they chose. It was supposed they omitted to

burn the house from the suspicion that the captain and his wife, from

whom they had, in times of peace, received many favors, were concealed

in it. Captain Whidden, after the destruction of his property on the

island returned to Greenland, in this state, which is supposed to have

been his native place, and there died.

The Indians also took, in a wood on the island, an old man by the name

of Pomeroy, who was employed in making shingles. Having collected their

captives and plunder, they immediately left the island, and commenced

their return to Canada to dispose of their prey. Pomeroy was old and

feeble, and unable to endure the fatigue of the march, without more

assistance than the savages thought fit to render him, and they killed

him on the journey. They were more attentive to the children, as for

them they undoubtedly expected a higher price or a greater ransom.

Abigail, one of the children, died among the Indians. The other captives

arrived safe in Canada, and were variously disposed of. Mr. Noble was

sold to a baker in Quebec, and his wife to a lady of the same place as a

chambermaid. They were allowed to visit each other and to sleep

together. Four of the children were also sold in Quebec, as were Timothy

Whidden and Mary Holmes. The captives in that city were exchanged within

a year, and returned to their homes. Mr. Whidden and Miss Holmes were

afterward united in marriage.

Fanny Noble, the principal subject of this memoir, at the time of her

captivity, was about thirteen months old. She was carried by a party of

Indians to Montreal. In their attempts to dispose of her, they took her

one day to the house of Monsieur Louis St. Auge Charlee, an eminent

merchant of that place, who was at that time on a journey to Quebec. His

lady was called into the kitchen by one of her maids to see a poor

infant crawling on the tile floor in dirt and rags, picking apple

peelings out of the cracks. She came in, and on kindly noticing the

child, Fanny immediately caught hold of the lady's gown, wrapped it over

her head, and burst into tears. The lady could not easily resist this

appeal to her compassion. She took up the child, who clung about her

neck and repeatedly embraced her. The Indians offered to sell her their

little captive, but she declined buying, not choosing probably in the

absence of her husband to venture on such a purchase. The Indians left

the house, and slept that night on the pavements before the door. Fanny,

who had again heard the voice of kindness, to which she had not been

accustomed from her savage masters, could not be quiet, but disturbed

the slumbers and touched the heart of the French lady by her incessant

cries. This lady had then lately lost a child by death, and was perhaps

more quick to feel for the sufferings of children, and more disposed to

love them, than she would otherwise have been. Early the next morning

the Indians were called into the house; Fanny was purchased, put into a

tub of water, and having been thoroughly washed, was dressed in the

clothes of the deceased child, and put to bed. She awoke smiling, and

seemed desirous of repaying her mistress' kindness by her infantile

prattle and fond caresses. Fanny could never learn for what price she

was bought of the Indians, as her French mother declined answering her

questions upon that subject, telling her to be a good girl, and be

thankful that she was not still in their power.

M. and Madam St. Auge took a lively interest in their little captive,

and treated her with much tenderness and affection. She felt for them a

filial attachment. When her parents were exchanged, her mother, on her

return home, called upon Fanny, and took the child in her arms, but no

instinct taught her to rejoice in the maternal embrace, and she fled for

protection to her French mamma. Mrs. Noble received many presents from

the French lady, and had the satisfaction to see that her daughter was

left in affectionate hands.

Fanny was taught to call and consider M. and Madam St. Auge as her

parents. They had her baptized by the name of Eleanor, and educated her

in the Roman Catholic religion. She learned her Pater Nosters and Ave

Marias, went to mass, crossed herself with holy water, and told her

beads with great devotion.

When four or five years old, she was enticed away from her French

parents by Wheelwright, who had been employed by the government of

Massachusetts to seek for captives in Canada. He carried her to the

Three Rivers, where he had several other captives, and left her, as he

pretended, with a relation of her French father for a few days, when she

expected to return to Montreal. But she had not been to the Three Rivers

more than twenty-four hours, when the old squaw who had sold her to

Madam St. Auge came along in a sleigh, accompanied by a young sanop,

seized upon Fanny, and carried her to St. Francois, where they kept her

about a fortnight. She had now attained an age when she would be

sensible of her misfortunes, and bitterly lamented her separation from

her French parents. The Indians endeavored to pacify and please her by

drawing on her coat or frock the figures of deer, wolves, bears, fishes,

&c.; and once, probably to make her look as handsomely as themselves,

they painted her cheeks in the Indian fashion, which very much

distressed her, and the old squaw made them wipe off the paint. At one

time she got away from the savages, and sought refuge in the best

looking house in the village, which belonged to a French priest, who

kissed her, asked her many questions, and treated her kindly, but gave

her up to the claim of her Indian masters. While at St Francois, her

brother, Joseph Noble, who had not been sold to the French, but still

lived with the Indians, came to see her, but she had a great aversion to

him. He was in his Indian dress, and she would not believe him to be a

relation, or speak to him if she could avoid it. She was at last turned

back by the Indians to Montreal, and to her great satisfaction was

delivered to her French father, who rewarded the Indians for returning

her. It was doubtless the expectation of much reward which induced the

old squaw to seize her at the Three Rivers, as the Indians not

unfrequently stole back captives, in order to extort presents for their

return from the French gentlemen to whom the same captives had before

been sold. Before this time she had been hastily carried from Montreal,

hurried over mountains and across waters, and concealed among flags,

while those who accompanied her were evidently pursued, and in great

apprehension of being overtaken; but the occasion of this flight or its

incidents she was too young to understand or distinctly to remember, and

she was unable afterward to satisfy herself whether her French father

conveyed her away to keep her out of the reach of her natural friends,

or whether she was taken by those friends, and afterward retaken, as at

the Three Rivers, and returned to Montreal. The French parents

cautiously avoided informing her upon this subject, or upon any other

which should remind her of her captivity, her country, her parents, or

her friends, lest she should become discontented with her situation, and

desirous of leaving those who had adopted her. They kept her secreted

from her natural friends, who were in search of her, and evaded every

question which might lead to her discovery. One day, when M. St. Auge

and most of his family were at mass, she was sent with another captive

to the third story of the house, and the domestics were required

strictly to watch them, as it was known that some of her relations were

then in the place endeavoring to find her. Of this circumstance she was

then ignorant, but she was displeased with her confinement, and with her

little companion found means to escape from their room and went below.

While raising a cup of water to her mouth, she saw a man looking at her

through the window, and stretching out his arm toward her, at the same

time speaking a language which she could not understand. She was very

much alarmed, threw down her water, and ran with all possible speed to

her room. Little did she suppose that it was her own father, from whom

she was flying in such fear and horror. He had returned to Canada to

seek those of his children who remained there. He could hear nothing of

his Fanny; but watching the house, he perceived her, as was just stated,

and joyfully stretching his arms toward her, exclaimed, "There's my

daughter! O! that's my daughter!" But she retreated, and he could not

gain admittance, for the house was guarded and no stranger permitted to

enter. How long he continued hovering about her is unknown, but he left

Canada without embracing her or seeing her again.

Her French parents put her to a boarding school attached to a nunnery in

Montreal, where she remained several years, and was taught all branches

of needle-work, with geography, music, painting, &c. In the same school

were two Misses Johnsons, who were captured at Charlestown, in 1754, and

two Misses Phipps, the daughters of Mrs. Howe, who was taken at

Hinsdale, in 1755. Fanny was in school when Mrs. Howe came for her

daughters, and long remembered the grief and lamentations of the young

captives when obliged to leave their school and mates to return to a

strange, though their native country, and to relatives whom they had

long forgotten.

While at school at Montreal, her brother Joseph again visited her. He

still belonged to the St. Francois tribe of Indians, and was dressed

remarkably fine, having forty or fifty broaches in his shirt, clasps on

his arm, and a great variety of knots and bells about his clothing. He

brought his little sister Ellen, as she was then called, and who was

then not far from seven years old, a young fawn, a basket of cranberries

and a lump of sap sugar. The little girl was much pleased with the fawn,

and had no great aversion to cranberries and sugar, but she was much

frightened by the appearance of Joseph, and would receive nothing from

his hands, till, at the suggestion of her friends, he had washed the

paint from his face and made some alteration in his dress, when she

ventured to accept his offerings, and immediately ran from his presence.

The next day, Joseph returned with the Indians to St. Francois, but some

time afterward M. St. Auge purchased him of the savages, and dressed him

in the French style; but he never appeared so bold and majestic, so

spirited and vivacious, as when arrayed in his Indian habit and

associating with his Indian friends. He however became much attached to

St. Auge, who put him to school; and when his sister parted with him

upon leaving Canada, he gave her a strict charge not to let it be known

where he was, lest he too should be obliged to leave his friends and

return to the place of his birth.

When between eleven and twelve years of age, Fanny was sent to the

school of Ursuline nuns in Quebec, to complete her education. Here the

discipline was much more strict and solemn than in the school at

Montreal. In both places the teachers were called half nuns, who, not

being professed, were allowed to go in and out at pleasure; but at

Quebec the pupils were in a great measure secluded from the world, being

permitted to walk only in a small garden by day, and confined by bolts

and bars in their cells at night. This restraint was irksome to Fanny.

She grew discontented; and at the close of the year was permitted to

return to her French parents at Montreal, and again enter the school in

that city.

While Fanny was in the nunnery, being then in her fourteenth year, she

was one day equally surprised and alarmed by the entrance of a stranger,

who demanded her of the nuns as a redeemed captive. Her father had

employed this man, Arnold, to seek out his daughter and obtain her from

the French, who had hitherto succeeded in detaining her. Arnold was well

calculated for this employment. He was secret, subtle, resolute and

persevering. He had been some time in the city without exciting a

suspicion of his business. He had ascertained where the captive was to

be found--he had procured the necessary powers to secure her, and in his

approach to the nunnery was accompanied by a sergeant and a file of men.

The nuns were unwilling to deliver up their pupil, and required to know

by what right he demanded her. Arnold convinced them that his authority

was derived from the governor, and they durst not disobey. They,

however, prolonged the time as much as possible, and sent word to M. St.

Auge, hoping that he would be able in some way or other to detain his

adopted daughter. Arnold, however, was not to be delayed or trifled

with. He sternly demanded the captive by the name of Noble in the

governor's name, and the nuns were awed into submission. Fanny, weeping

and trembling, was delivered up by those who wept and trembled too. She

accompanied Arnold to the gate of the nunnery, but the idea of leaving

forever those whom she loved and going with a company of armed men, she

knew not whither, was too overwhelming, and she sank upon the ground.

Her cries and lamentations drew the people around her, and she exclaimed

bitterly against the cruelty of forcing her away, declaring that she

could not and would not go any further as a prisoner with those

frightful soldiers. At this time an English officer appeared in the

crowd; he reasoned with her, soothed her, and persuaded her to walk with

him, assuring her the guard should be dismissed and no injury befall

her. As they passed by the door of M. St. Auge, on their way to the inn,

her grief and exclamations were renewed, and it was with great

difficulty that she could be persuaded to proceed. But the guard had

merely fallen back, and were near enough to prevent a rescue, had an

attempt been made. Captain M'Clure, the English officer, promised her

that she should be permitted to visit her French parents the next day.

She found them in tears, but they could not detain her. M. St. Auge gave

her a handful of money, and embraced her, blessed her, and rushed out of

the room. His lady supplied her with clothes, and their parting was most

affectionate and affecting. She lived to a considerably advanced age,

but she could never speak of this scene without visible and deep

emotion.

She was carried down the river to Quebec, where she tarried a few days,

and then sailed with Captain Wilson for Boston. She arrived at that port

in July, one month before she was fourteen years of age. She was

joyfully received by her friends, but her father did not long survive

her return. After his death she resided in the family of Captain Wilson,

at Boston, until she had acquired the English language, of which before

she was almost entirely ignorant. She then went to Newbury, and lived in

the family of a relative of her father, where she found a home, and that

peace to which she had long been a stranger. Her education had qualified

her for the instruction of youth, and she partially devoted herself to

that employment. She was engaged in a school at Hampton, where she

formed an acquaintance with Mr. Jonathan Tilton, a gentleman of good

property in Kensington, whom she married about the year 1776. He died in

1798. In 1801, she married Mr. John Shute, of New Market, and lived in

the village of Newfields, in that town, till her death, in September,

1819. She was much respected and esteemed in life, and her death was, as

her life had been, that of a Christian.

NARRATIVE OF THE CAPTIVITY

OF

QUINTIN STOCKWELL.

In the year 1677, September the 19th, between sunset and dark, the

Indians came upon us.[62] I and another man, being together, we ran away

at the outcry the Indians made, shouting and shooting at some others of

the English that were hard by. We took a swamp that was at hand for our

refuge; the enemy espying us so near them, ran after us, and shot many

guns at us; three guns were discharged upon me, the enemy being within

three rods of me, besides many others before that. Being in this swamp,

which was miry, I slumped in and fell down, whereupon one of the enemy

stepped to me, with his hatchet lifted up to knock me on the head,

supposing that I had been wounded and so unfit for any other travel. I,

as it happened, had a pistol by me, which, though uncharged, I presented

to the Indian, who presently stepped back, and told me if I would yield

I should have no hurt; he said, which was not true, that they had

destroyed all Hatfield, and that the woods were full of Indians,

whereupon I yielded myself, and falling into their hands, was by three

of them led away unto the place whence first I began to make my flight.

Here two other Indians came running to us, and the one lifting up the

butt end of his gun, to knock me on the head, the other with his hand

put by the blow, and said I was his friend. I was now by my own house,

which the Indians burnt the last year, and I was about to build up

again; and there I had some hopes to escape from them. There was a horse

just by, which they bid me take. I did so, but made no attempt to escape

thereby, because the enemy was near, and the beast was slow and dull.

Then was I in hopes they would send me to take my own horses, which they

did; but they were so frightened that I could not come near to them, and

so fell still into the enemy's hands. They now took and bound me and led

me away, and soon was I brought into the company of other captives, who

were that day brought away from Hatfield, who were about a mile off; and

here methought was matter of joy and sorrow both: joy to see company,

and sorrow for our condition. Then were we pinioned and led away in the

night over the mountains, in dark and hideous ways, about four miles

further, before we took up our place for rest, which was in a dismal

place of wood, on the east side of that mountain. We were kept bound all

that night. The Indians kept waking, and we had little mind to sleep in

this night's travel. The Indians dispersed, and as they went made

strange noises, as of wolves and owls, and other wild beasts, to the end

that they might not lose one another, and if followed they might not be

discovered by the English.

About the break of day we marched again, and got over that great river

at Pecomptuck [Deerfield] river mouth, and there rested about two hours.

Here the Indians marked out upon the trees the number of their captives

and slain, as their manner is. Now was I again in great danger, a

quarrel having arose about me, whose captive I was; for three took me. I

thought I must be killed to end the controversy, so when they put it to

me, whose I was, I said three Indians took me; so they agreed to have

all a share in me. I had now three masters, and he was my chief master

who laid hands on me first; and thus was I fallen into the hands of the

worst of all the company, as Asphelon, the Indian captain, told me which

captain was all along very kind to me, and a great comfort to the

English. In this place they gave us some victuals, which they had

brought from the English. This morning also they sent ten men forth to

the town of Deerfield to bring away what they could find. Some

provision, some corn out of the meadow, they brought to us on horses,

which they had there taken.

From hence we went up about the falls, where we crossed that river

again; and whilst I was going, I fell right down lame of my old wounds,

which I had in the war, and whilst I was thinking I should therefore be

killed by the Indians, and what death I should die, my pain was suddenly

gone, and I was much encouraged again. We had about eleven horses in

that company, which the Indians used to convey burdens, and to carry

women. It was afternoon when we now crossed that river. We traveled up

it till night, and then took up our lodging in a dismal place, and were

staked down, and spread out on our backs; and so we lay all night, yea,

so we lay many nights. They told me their law was that we should lie so

nine nights, and by that time it was thought we should be out of our

knowledge. The manner of staking down was thus: our arms and legs

stretched out, were staked fast down, and a cord about our necks, so

that we could stir noways. The first night of staking down, being much

tired, I slept as comfortable as ever. The next day we went up the

river, and crossed it, and at night lay in Squakheag [Northfield]

meadows. Our provision was soon spent, and while we lay in those meadows

the Indians went a hunting, and the English army came out after us. Then

the Indians moved again, dividing themselves and the captives into many

companies, that the English might not follow their tracks. At night,

having crossed the river, we met again at the place appointed. The next

day we crossed it again on Squakheag side, and there we took up our

quarters for a long time. I suppose this might be about thirty miles

above Squakheag; and here were the Indians quite out of all fear of the

English, but in great fear of the Mohawks. Here they built a long

wigwam, and had a great dance, as they call it, and concluded to burn

three of us, and had got bark to do it with; and, as I understood

afterward, I was one that was to be burnt, sergeant Plimpton another,

and Benjamin Waite's wife the third. Though I knew not which was to be

burnt, yet I perceived some were designed thereunto; so much I

understood of their language. That night I could not sleep for fear of

next day's work. The Indians being weary with the dance, lay down to

sleep, and slept soundly. The English were all loose; then I went out

and brought in wood, and mended the fire, and made a noise on purpose,

but none awakened. I thought if any of the English would awake, we might

kill them all sleeping. I removed out of the way all the guns and

hatchets, but my heart failing me, I put all the things where they were

again. The next day, when we were to be burnt, our master and some

others spoke for us, and the evil was prevented in this place.

Hereabouts we lay three weeks together. Here I had a shirt brought to me

to make, and one Indian said it should be made this way, a second

another way, a third his way. I told them I would make it that way my

chief master said; whereupon one Indian struck me on the face with his

fist. I suddenly rose up in anger, ready to strike again; upon this

happened a great hubbub, and the Indians and English came about me. I

was fain to humble myself to my master, so that matter was put up.

Before I came to this place, my three masters were gone a hunting; I was

left with another Indian, all the company being upon a march; I was left

with this Indian, who fell sick, so that I was fain to carry his gun and

hatchet, and had opportunity, and had thought to have dispatched him and

run away; but did not, for that the English captives had promised the

contrary to one another; because, if one should run away, that would

provoke the Indians, and endanger the rest that could not run away.

Whilst, we were here, Benjamin Stebbins, going with some Indians to

Wachuset Hills, made his escape from them, and when the news of his

escape came we were all presently called in and bound; one of the

Indians, a captain among them, and always our great friend, met me

coming in, and told me Stebbins was run away; and the Indians spake of

burning us; some, of only burning and biting off our fingers, by and by.

He said there would be a court, and all would speak their minds, but he

would speak last, and would say, that the Indian who let Stebbins run

away was only in fault, and so no hurt should be done us, and added,

"fear not," so it proved accordingly. Whilst we lingered hereabout,

provision grew scarce; one bear's foot must serve five of us a whole

day. We began to eat horse-flesh, and eat up seven in all; three were

left alive and not killed. After we had been here, some of the Indians

had been down, and fallen upon Hadley, and were taken by the English,

agreed with and let go again. They were to meet the English upon such a

plain, there to make further terms. Ashpalon was much for it, but

Wachuset sachems, when they came, were much against it, and were for

this: that we should meet the English, indeed, but there fall upon them

and fight them, and take them. Then Ashpalon spake to us English, not to

speak a word more to further that matter, for mischief would come of it.

When those Indians came from Wachuset there came with them squaws and

children, about four score, who reported that the English had taken

Uncas, and all his men, and sent them beyond seas. They were much

enraged at this, and asked if it were true; we said, no. Then was

Ashpalon angry, and said he would no more believe Englishmen. They

examined us every one apart, and then they dealt worse with us for a

season than before. Still provision was scarce. We came at length to a

place called Squaw Maug river; there we hoped for salmon; but we came

too late. This place I account to be above two hundred miles above

Deerfield. We now parted into two companies; some went one way, and some

went another way; and we went over a mighty mountain, it taking us eight

days to go over it, and traveled very hard too, having every day either

snow or rain. We noted that on this mountain all the water run

northward. Here also we wanted provision; but at length we met again on

the other side of the mountain, viz: on the north side, at a river that

runs into the lake; and we were then half a day's journey off the lake.

We staid there a great while, to make canoes to go over the lake. Here I

was frozen, and again we were like to starve. All the Indians went a

hunting, but could get nothing; divers days they powwowed, and yet got

nothing; then they desired the English to pray, and confessed they could

do nothing; they would have us pray, and see what the Englishman's God

could do. I prayed, so did sergeant Plimpton, in another place. The

Indians reverently attended, morning and night. Next day they got bears;

then they would needs have us desire a blessing, and return thanks at

meals; after a while they grew weary of it, and the sachem bid forbid

us. When I was frozen they were very cruel toward me because I could not

do as at other times. When we came to the lake we were again sadly put

to it for provision. We were fain to eat touchwood fried in bear's

grease. At last we found a company of raccoons, and then we made a

feast; and the manner was that we must eat all. I perceived there would

be too much for one time, so one Indian who sat next to me bid me slip

away some to him under his coat, and he would hide it for me till

another time. This Indian, as soon as he had got my meat, stood up and

made a speech to the rest, and discovered me; so that the Indians were

very angry and cut me another piece, and gave me raccoon grease to

drink, which made me sick and vomit. I told them I had enough; so ever

after that they would give me none, but still tell me I had raccoon

enough. So I suffered much, and being frozen, was full of pain, and

could sleep but a little, yet must do my work. When they went upon the

lake, and as they came to it, they lit of a moose and killed it, and

staid there till they had eaten it all up.

After entering upon the lake, there arose a great storm, and we thought

we should all be cast away, but at last we got to an island, and there

they went to powwowing. The powwow said that Benjamin Waite and another

man was coming, and that storm was raised to cast them away. This

afterward appeared to be true, though then I believed them not. Upon

this island we lay still several days, and then set out again, but a

storm took us, so that we lay to and fro, upon certain islands, about

three weeks. We had no provision but raccoons, so that the Indians

themselves thought they should be starved. They gave me nothing, so that

I was sundry days without any provision. We went on upon the lake, upon

that isle, about a day's journey. We had a little sled upon which we

drew our load. Before noon, I tired, and just then the Indians met with

some Frenchmen; then one of the Indians that took me, came to me, and

called me all manner of bad names, and threw me down upon my back. I

told him I could not do any more; then he said he must kill me. I

thought he was about to do it, for he pulled out his knife and cut out

my pockets, and wrapped them about my face, helped me up, and took my

sled and went away, giving me a bit of biscuit, as big as a walnut,

which he had of the Frenchman, and told me he would give me a pipe of

tobacco. When my sled was gone, I could run after him, but at last I

could not run, but went a foot-pace. The Indians were soon out of sight

I followed as well as I could, and had many falls upon the ice.

At last, I was so spent, I had not strength enough to rise again, but I

crept to a tree that lay along, and got upon it, and there I lay. It was

now night, and very sharp weather: I counted no other but that I must

die here. Whilst I was thinking of death, an Indian halloed, and I

answered him; he came to me, and called me bad names, and told me if I

could not go, he must knock me on the head. I told him he must then do

so; he saw how I had wallowed in the snow, but could not rise; then he

took his coat and wrapt me in it, and went back and sent two Indians

with a sled. One said he must knock me on the head, the other said no,

they would carry me away and burn me. Then they bid me stir my instep,

to see if that were frozen; I did so. When they saw that, they said that

was Wurregen. There was a chirurgeon among the French, they said, that

could cure me; then they took me upon a sled, and carried me to the

fire, and made much of me; pulled off my wet and wrapped me in my dry

clothes, and made me a good bed. They had killed an otter, and gave me

some of the broth made of it, and a bit of the flesh. Here I slept till

toward day, and then was able to get up and put on my clothes. One of

the Indians awaked, and seeing me walk, shouted, as rejoicing at it. As

soon as it was light, I and Samuel Russell went before on the ice, upon

a river. They said I must go where I could on foot, else I should

freeze. Samuel Russell slipt into the river with one foot; the Indians

called him back, and dried his stockings, and then sent us away, and an

Indian with us to pilot us. We went four or five miles before they

overtook us. I was then pretty well spent. Samuel Russell was, he said,

faint, and wondered how I could live, for he had, he said, ten meals to

my one. Then I was laid on the sled, and they ran away with me on the

ice; the rest and Samuel Russell came softly after. Samuel Russell I

never saw more, nor know I what became of him. They got but half way,

and we got through to Shamblee about midnight. Six miles off Shamblee,

(a French town,) the river was open, and, when I came to travel in that

part of the ice, I soon tired; and two Indians ran away to town, and one

only was left; he would carry me a few rods, and then I would go as

many, and then a trade we drove, and so were long in going the six

miles. This Indian was now kind, and told me that if he did not carry me

I would die, and so I should have done, sure enough; and he said I must

tell the English how he helped me. When we came to the first house,

there was no inhabitant. The Indian was also spent, and both were

discouraged; he said we must now die together. At last he left me alone,

and got to another house, and thence came some French and Indians; and

brought me in. The French were kind, and put my hands and feet in cold

water, and gave me a dram of brandy, and a little hasty pudding and

milk; when I tasted victuals, I was hungry, and could not have forborne

it, but I could not get it. Now and then they would give me a little, as

they thought best for me. I laid by the fire with the Indian that night,

but could not sleep for pain. Next morning, the Indians and French fell

out about me, because the French, as the Indians said, loved the English

better than the Indians. The French presently turned the Indians out of

doors, and kept me.

They were very kind and careful, and gave me a little something now and

then. While I was here, all the men in that town came to see me. At this

house I was three or four days, and then invited to another, and after

that to another. In this place I was about thirteen days, and received

much civility from a young man, a bachelor, who invited me to his house,

with whom I was for the most part of the time. He was so kind as to

lodge me in the bed with himself, gave me a shirt, and would have bought

me, but could not, as the Indians asked one hundred pounds for me. We

were then to go to a place called Sorel, and that young man would go

with me, because the Indians should not hurt me. This man carried me on

the ice one day's journey, for I could not now go at all, and there was

so much water on the ice we could go no farther. So the Frenchman left

me, and provision for me. Here we staid two nights, and then traveled

again, for now the ice was strong, and in two days more we came to

Sorel. When we got to the first house, it was late in the night; and

here again the people were kind. Next day, being in much pain, I asked

the Indians to carry me to the chirurgeons, as they had promised, at

which they were wroth, and one of them took up his gun to knock me, but

the Frenchman would not suffer it, but set upon him and kicked him out

of doors. Then we went away from thence, to a place two or three miles

off, where the Indians had wigwams. When I came to these wigwams, some

of the Indians knew me, and seemed to pity me.

While I was here, which was three or four days, the French came to see

me; and it being Christmas time, they brought cakes and other provisions

with them and gave to me, so that I had no want. The Indians tried to

cure me, but could not. Then I asked for the chirurgeon, at which one of

the Indians in anger struck me on the face with his fist. A Frenchman

being by, spoke to him, but I knew not what he said, and then went his

way. By and by came the captain of the place into the wigwam, with about

twelve armed men, and asked where the Indian was that struck the

Englishman. They took him and told him he should go to the bilboes, and

then be hanged. The Indians were much terrified at this, as appeared by

their countenances and trembling. I would have gone too, but the

Frenchman bid me not fear; that the Indians durst not hurt me. When that

Indian was gone, I had two masters still. I asked them to carry me to

that captain, that I might speak for the Indian. They answered, "You are

a fool. Do you think the French are like the English, to say one thing

and do another? They are men of their words." I prevailed with them,

however, to help me thither, and I spoke to the captain by an

interpreter, and told him I desired him to set the Indian free, and told

him what he had done for me. He told me he was a rogue, and should be

hanged. Then I spoke more privately, alledging this reason, that because

all the English captives were not come in, if he were hanged, it might

fare the worse with them. The captain said "that was to be considered."

Then he set him at liberty upon this condition, that he should never

strike me more, and every day bring me to his house to eat victuals. I

perceived that the common people did not like what the Indians had done

and did to the English. When the Indian was set free, he came to me, and

took me about the middle, and said I was his brother; that I had saved

his life once, and he had saved mine thrice. Then he called for brandy

and made me drink, and had me away to the wigwams again. When I came

there, the Indians came to me one by one, to shake hands with me, saying

Wurregen Netop, and were very kind, thinking no other but that I had

saved the Indian's life.

The next day he carried me to that captain's house, and set me down.[*]

They gave me my victuals and wine, and being left there a while by the

Indians, I showed the captain my fingers, which, when he and his wife

saw, they ran away from the sight, and bid me lap it up again, and sent

for the chirurgeon; who, when he came, said he could cure me, and took

it in hand, and dressed it. The Indians toward night came for me; I told

them I could not go with them. They were displeased, called me rogue,

and went away. That night I was full of pain; the French feared that I

would die; five men did watch with me, and strove to keep me cheerly,

for I was sometimes ready to faint. Oftentimes they gave me a little

brandy. The next day the chirurgeon came again, and dressed me; and so

he did all the while I was among the French. I came in at Christmas,

and went thence on the second of May.

Being thus in the captain's house, I was kept there till Benjamin Waite

came; and now my Indian master, being in want of money, pawned me to the

captain for fourteen beavers' skins, or the worth of them, at such a

day; if he did not pay, he must lose his pawn, or else sell me for

twenty-one beavers, but he could not get beaver, and so I was sold. By

being thus sold, adds Dr. Mather, he was in God's good time set at

liberty, and returned to his friends in New England again.

FOOTNOTES:

[62] At Deerfield, Mass.

NARRATIVE OF THE CAPTIVITY

OF

PETER WILLIAMSON.

I was born within ten miles of the town of Aberdeen, in the north of

Scotland, of reputable parents. At eight years of age, being a sturdy

boy, I was taken notice of by two fellows belonging to a vessel,

employed (as the trade then was) by some of the worthy merchants of

Aberdeen in that villainous and execrable practice of stealing young

children from their parents, and selling them as slaves in the

plantations abroad, and on board the ship I was easily cajoled by them,

where I was conducted between decks, to some others they had kidnapped

in the same manner, and in about a month's time set sail for America.

When arrived at Philadelphia, the captain sold us at about sixteen

pounds per head. What became of my unhappy companions I never knew; but

it was my lot to be sold for seven years, to one of my countrymen, who

had in his youth been kidnapped like myself, but from another town.

Having no children of his own, and commiserating my condition, he took

care of me, indulged me in going to school, where I went every winter

for five years, and made a tolerable proficiency. With this good master

I continued till he died, and, as a reward for my faithful service, he

left me two hundred pounds currency, which was then about an hundred and

twenty pounds sterling, his best horse, saddle, and all his wearing

apparel.

Being now seventeen years old, and my own master, having money in my

pocket, and all other necessaries, I employed myself in jobbing for near

seven years; when I resolved to settle, and married the daughter of a

substantial planter. My father-in-law made me a deed of gift of a tract

of land that lay (unhappily for me, as it has since proved) on the

frontiers of the province of Pennsylvania, near the forks of Delaware,

containing about two hundred acres, thirty of which were well cleared

and fit for immediate use, on which were a good house and barn. The

place pleasing me well, I settled on it. My money I expended in buying

stock, household furniture, and implements for out-of-door work; and

being happy in a good wife, my felicity was complete: but in 1754, the

Indians, who had for a long time before ravaged and destroyed other

parts of America unmolested, began now to be very troublesome on the

frontiers of our province, where they generally appeared in small

skulking parties, committing great devastations.

Terrible and shocking to human nature were the barbarities daily

committed by these savages! Scarce did a day pass but some unhappy

family or other fell victims to savage cruelty. Terrible, indeed, it

proved to me, as well as to many others. I, that was now happy in an

easy state of life; blessed with an affectionate and tender wife, became

on a sudden one of the most unhappy of mankind: scarce can I sustain the

shock which forever recurs on recollecting the fatal second of October,

1754. My wife that day went from home, to visit some of her relations;

as I staid up later than usual, expecting her return, none being in the

house besides myself, how great was my surprise and terror, when, about

eleven o'clock at night, I heard the dismal war-whoop of the savages,

and found that my house was beset by them. I flew to my chamber window,

and perceived them to be twelve in number. Having my gun loaded, I

threatened them with death, if they did not retire. But how vain and

fruitless are the efforts of one man against the united force of so many

blood-thirsty monsters! One of them, that could speak English,

threatened me in return, "That if I did not come out they would burn me

alive," adding, however, "that if I would come out and surrender myself

prisoner, they would not kill me." In such deplorable circumstances, I

chose to rely on their promises, rather than meet death by rejecting

them; and accordingly went out of the house, with my gun in my hand, not

knowing that I had it. Immediately on my approach they rushed on me like

tigers, and instantly disarmed me. Having me thus in their power, they

bound me to a tree, went into the house, plundered it of every thing

they could carry off, and then set fire to it, and consumed what was

left, before my eyes. Not satisfied with this, they set fire to my barn,

stable, and outhouses, wherein were about two hundred bushels of wheat,

six cows, four horses, and five sheep, all of which were consumed to

ashes.

Having thus finished the execrable business about which they came, one

of the monsters came to me with a tomahawk and threatened me with the

worst of deaths if I would not go with them. This I agreed to, and then

they untied me, gave me a load to carry, under which I traveled all that

night, full of the most terrible apprehensions, lest my unhappy wife

should likewise have fallen into their cruel power. At daybreak my

infernal masters ordered me to lay down my load, when, tying my hands

again round a tree, they forced the blood out at my fingers' ends. And

then kindling a fire near the tree to which I was bound, the most

dreadful agonies seized me, concluding I was to be made a sacrifice to

their barbarity. The fire being made, they for some time danced round me

after their manner, whooping, hollowing and shrieking in a frightful

manner. Being satisfied with this sort of mirth, they proceeded in

another manner: taking the burning coals, and sticks flaming with fire

at the ends, holding them to my face, head, hands, and feet, and at the

same time threatening to burn me entirely if I cried out. Thus, tortured

as I was, almost to death, I suffered their brutalities, without being

able to vent my anguish otherwise than by shedding silent tears; and

these being observed, they took fresh coals and applied them near my

eyes, telling me my face was wet, and that they would dry it for me,

which indeed they cruelly did. How I underwent these tortures has been

matter of wonder to me, but God enabled me to wait with more than common

patience for the deliverance I daily prayed for.

At length they sat down round the fire, and roasted the meat, of which

they had robbed my dwelling. When they had supped, they offered some to

me; though it may easily be imagined I had but little appetite to eat,

after the tortures and miseries I had suffered, yet was I forced to seem

pleased with what they offered me, lest by refusing it they should

resume their hellish practices. What I could not eat I contrived to

hide, they having unbound me till they imagined I had eat all; but then

they bound me as before; in which deplorable condition I was forced to

continue the whole day. When the sun was set, they put out the fire, and

covered the ashes with leaves, as is their usual custom, that the white

people might not discover any traces of their having been there.

Going from thence along the Susquehanna, for the space of six miles,

loaded as I was before, we arrived at a spot near the Appalachian

mountains, or Blue hills, where they hid their plunder under logs of

wood. From thence they proceeded to a neighboring house, occupied by one

Jacob Snider and his unhappy family, consisting of his wife, five

children, and a young man his servant. They soon got admittance into the

unfortunate man's house, where they immediately, without the least

remorse, scalped both parents and children; nor could the tears, the

shrieks, or cries of poor innocent children prevent their horrid

massacre. Having thus scalped them, and plundered the house of every

thing that was movable, they set fire to it, and left the distressed

victims amidst the flames.

Thinking the young man belonging to this unhappy family would be of

service to them in carrying part of their plunder, they spared his

life, and loaded him and myself with what they had here got, and again

marched to the Blue hills, where they stowed their goods as before. My

fellow sufferer could not support the cruel treatment which we were

obliged to suffer, and complaining bitterly to me of his being unable to

proceed any farther, I endeavored to animate him, but all in vain, for

he still continued his moans and tears, which one of the savages

perceiving, as we traveled along, came up to us, and with his tomahawk

gave him a blow on the head, which felled the unhappy youth to the

ground, whom they immediately scalped and left. The suddenness of this

murder shocked me to that degree, that I was in a manner motionless,

expecting my fate would soon be the same: however, recovering my

distracted thoughts, I dissembled my anguish as well as I could from the

barbarians; but still, such was my terror, that for some time I scarce

knew the days of the week, or what I did.

They still kept on their course near the mountains, where they lay

skulking four or five days, rejoicing at the plunder they had got. When

provisions became scarce, they made their way toward Susquehanna, and

passing near another house, inhabited by an old man, whose name was John

Adams, with his wife and four small children, and meeting with no

resistance, they immediately scalped the mother and her children before

the old man's eyes. Inhuman and horrid as this was, it did not satisfy

them; for when they had murdered the poor woman, they acted with her in

such a brutal manner as decency will not permit me to mention. The

unhappy husband, not being able to avoid the sight, entreated them to

put an end to his miserable being; but they were as deaf to the tears

and entreaties of this venerable sufferer as they had been to those of

the others, and proceeded to burn and destroy his house, barn, corn,

hay, cattle, and every thing the poor man a few hours before was master

of. Having saved what they thought proper from the flames, they gave the

old man, feeble, weak, and in the miserable condition he then was, as

well as myself, burdens to carry, and loading themselves likewise with

bread and meat, pursued their journey toward the Great Swamp. Here they

lay for eight or nine days, diverting themselves, at times, in barbarous

cruelties on the old man: sometimes they would strip him naked, and

paint him all over with various sorts of colors; at other times they

would pluck the white hairs from his head, and tauntingly tell him he

was a fool for living so long, and that they would show him kindness in

putting him out of the world. In vain were all his tears, for daily did

they tire themselves with the various means they tried to torment him;

sometimes tying him to a tree, and whipping him; at other times,

scorching his furrowed cheek with red hot coals, and burning his legs

quite to the knees. One night, after he had been thus tormented, while

he and I were condoling each other at the miseries we daily suffered,

twenty-five other Indians arrived, bringing with them twenty scalps and

three prisoners, who had unhappily fallen into their hands in

Conogocheague, a small town near the river Susquehanna, chiefly

inhabited by the Irish. These prisoners gave us some shocking accounts

of the murders and devastations committed in their parts; a few

instances of which will enable the reader to guess at the treatment the

provincials have suffered for years past. This party who now joined us,

had it not, I found, in their power to begin their violences so soon as

those who visited my habitation; the first of their tragedies being on

the 25th of October, 1754, when John Lewis, with his wife and three

small children, were inhumanly scalped and murdered, and his house,

barn, and every thing he possessed burnt and destroyed. On the 28th,

Jacob Miller, with his wife and six of his family, with every thing on

his plantations, shared the same fate. The 30th, the house, mill, barn,

twenty head of cattle, two teams of horses, and every thing belonging to

George Folke, met with the like treatment, himself, wife, and all his

miserable family, consisting of nine in number, being scalped, then cut

in pieces and given to the swine. One of the substantial traders,

belonging to the province, having business that called him some miles up

the country, fell into the hands of these ruffians, who not only scalped

him, but immediately roasted him before he was dead; then, like

cannibals, for want of other food, eat his whole body, and of his head

made, what they called, an Indian pudding.

From these few instances of savage cruelty, the deplorable situation of

the defenseless inhabitants, and what they hourly suffered in that part

of the globe, must strike the utmost horror, and cause in every breast

the utmost detestation, not only against the authors, but against those

who, through inattention, or pusillanimous or erroneous principles,

suffered these savages at first, unrepelled, or even unmolested, to

commit such outrages, depredations and murders.

The three prisoners that were brought with these additional forces,

constantly repining at their lot, and almost dead with their excessive

hard treatment, contrived at last to make their escape: but being far

from their own settlements, and not knowing the country, were soon after

met by some others of the tribes or nations at war with us and brought

back. The poor creatures, almost famished for want of sustenance, having

had none during the time of their escape, were no sooner in the power of

the barbarians than two of them were tied to a tree, and a great fire

made round them, where they remained till they were terribly scorched

and burnt; when one of the villains with his scalping knife ripped open

their bellies, took out their entrails, and burned them before their

eyes, while the others were cutting, piercing, and tearing the flesh

from their breasts, hands, arms and legs, with red-hot irons, till they

were dead. The third unhappy victim was reserved a few hours longer, to

be, if possible, sacrificed in a more cruel manner: his arms were tied

close to his body, and a hole being dug deep enough for him to stand

upright, he was put into it, and earth rammed and beat in all round his

body up to his neck, so that his head only appeared above ground; they

then scalped him, and there let him remain for three or four hours in

the greatest agonies; after which they made a small fire near his head,

causing him to suffer the most excruciating torments; while the poor

creature could only cry for mercy by killing him immediately, for his

brains were boiling in his head. Inexorable to all he said, they

continued the fire till his eyes gushed out of their sockets. Such

agonizing torments did this unhappy creature suffer for near two hours

before he was quite dead. They then cut off his head, and buried it with

the other bodies; my task being to dig the graves; which, feeble and

terrified as I was, the dread of suffering the same fate enabled me to

do.

A great snow now falling, the barbarians were fearful lest the white

people should, by their tracks, find out their skulking retreats, which

obliged them to make the best of their way to their winter quarters,

about two hundred miles farther from any plantations or inhabitants.

After a long and painful journey, being almost starved, I arrived with

this infernal crew at Alamingo. There I found a number of wigwams full

of their women and children. Dancing, singing and shouting were their

general amusements. And in all their festivals and dances they relate

what succcesses they have had, and what damages they have sustained in

their expeditions; in which I now unhappily became a part of their

theme. The severity of the cold increasing, they stripped me of my

clothes for their own use, and gave me such as they usually wore

themselves, being a piece of blanket, and a pair of moccasins, or shoes,

with a yard of coarse cloth, to put round me instead of breeches.

At Alamingo, I remained near two months, till the snow was off the

ground. Whatever thoughts I might have of making my escape, to carry

them into execution was impracticable, being so far from any plantations

or white people, and the severe weather rendering my limbs in a manner

quite stiff and motionless; however, I contrived to defend myself

against the inclemency of the weather as well as I could, by making

myself a little wigwam with the bark of the trees, covering it with

earth, which made it resemble a cave; and to prevent the ill effects of

the cold, I kept a good fire always near the door. My liberty of going

about was indeed, more than I could have expected, but they well knew

the impracticability of my escaping from them. Seeing me outwardly easy

and submissive, they would sometimes give me a little meat, but my chief

food was Indian corn. At length the time came when they were preparing

themselves for another expedition against the planters and white people;

but before they set out, they were joined by many other Indians.

As soon as the snow was quite gone, they set forth on their journey

toward the back parts of the province of Pennsylvania; all leaving their

wives and children behind in their wigwams. They were now a formidable

body, amounting to near one hundred and fifty. My business was to carry

what they thought proper to load me with, but they never entrusted me

with a gun. We marched on several days without any thing particular

occurring, almost famished for want of provisions; for my part, I had

nothing but a few stalks of Indian corn, which I was glad to eat dry;

nor did the Indians themselves fare much better, for as we drew near the

plantations they were afraid to kill any game, lest the noise of their

guns should alarm the inhabitants.

When we again arrived at the Blue hills, about thirty miles from the

Irish settlements before mentioned, we encamped for three days, though

God knows we had neither tents nor any thing else to defend us from the

inclemency of the air, having nothing to lie on by night but the grass;

their usual method of lodging, pitching, or encamping, by night, being

in parcels of ten or twelve men to a fire, where they lie upon the grass

or brush wrapped up in a blanket, with their feet to the fire.

During our stay here, a sort of council of war was held, when it was

agreed to divide themselves into companies of about twenty men each;

after which every captain marched with his party where he thought

proper. I still belonged to my old masters, but was left behind on the

mountains with ten Indians, to stay till the rest should return; not

thinking it proper to carry me nearer to Conogocheague, or the other

plantations.

Here I began to meditate an escape, and though I knew the country round

extremely well, yet I was very cautious of giving the least suspicion of

any such intention. However, the third day after the grand body left, my

companions thought proper to traverse the mountains in search of game

for their sustenance, leaving me bound in such a manner that I could not

escape. At night, when they returned, having unbound me, we all sat down

together to supper on what they had killed, and soon after (being

greatly fatigued with their day's excursion) they composed themselves to

rest, as usual I now tried various ways to try whether it was a scheme

to prove my intentions or not; but after making a noise and walking

about, sometimes touching them with my feet, I found there was no

fallacy. Then I resolved, if possible, to get one of their guns, and, if

discovered, to die in my defense, rather than be taken. For that purpose

I made various efforts to get one from under their heads, (where they

always secured them,) but in vain. Disappointed in this, I began to

despair of carrying my design into execution; yet, after a little

recollection, and trusting myself to the divine protection, I set

forward, naked and defenseless as I was. Such was my terror, however,

that in going from them I halted, and paused every four or five yards,

looking fearfully toward the spot where I had left them, lest they

should awake and miss me; but when I was two hundred yards from them, I

mended my pace, and made as much haste as I possibly could to the foot

of the mountains; when, on a sudden, I was struck with the greatest

terror at hearing the wood cry, as it is called, which the savages I had

left were making upon missing their charge. The more my terror increased

the faster I pushed on, and scarce knowing where I trod, drove through

the woods with the utmost precipitation, sometimes falling and bruising

myself, cutting my feet and legs against the stones in a miserable

manner. But faint and maimed as I was, I continued my flight till

daybreak, when, without having any thing to sustain nature but a little

corn left, I crept into a hollow tree, where I lay very snug, and

returned my prayers and thanks to the divine Being that had thus far

favored my escape. But my repose was in a few hours destroyed at hearing

the voices of the savages near the place where I was hid, threatening

and talking how they would use me if they got me again. However, they at

last left the spot where I heard them, and I remained in my apartment

all that day without further molestation.

At night I ventured forward again, frightened; thinking each twig that

touched me a savage. The third day I concealed myself in like manner as

before, and at night traveled, keeping off the main road as much as

possible, which lengthened my journey many miles. But how shall I

describe the terror I felt on the fourth night, when by the rustling I

made among the leaves, a party of Indians, that lay round a small fire,

which I did not perceive, started from the ground, and seizing their

arms, ran from the fire among the woods. Whether to move forward or rest

where I was, I knew not, when to my great surprise and joy, I was

relieved by a parcel of swine that made toward the place where I guessed

the savages to be; who, on seeing them, imagined they had caused the

alarm, very merrily returned to the fire, and lay again down to sleep.

Bruised, crippled, and terrified as I was, I pursued my journey till

break of day, when, thinking myself safe, I lay down under a great log,

and slept till about noon. Before evening I reached the summit of a

great hill, and looking out if I could spy any habitations of white

people, to my inexpressible joy I saw some, which I guessed to be about

ten miles distant.

In the morning, I continued my journey toward the nearest cleared lands

I had seen the day before, and, about four o'clock in the afternoon,

arrived at the house of John Bell, an old acquaintance, where, knocking

at the door, his wife, who opened it, seeing me in such a frightful

condition, flew from me screaming, into the house. This alarmed the

whole family, who immediately fled to their arms, and I was soon

accosted by the master with his gun in his hand. But on making myself

known, (for he before took me to be an Indian,) he immediately caressed

me, as did all his family, with extraordinary friendship, the report of

my being murdered by the savages having reached them some months before.

For two days and nights they very affectionately supplied me with all

necessaries, and carefully attended me till my spirits and limbs were

pretty well recovered, and I thought myself able to ride, when I

borrowed of these good people (whose kindness merits my most grateful

returns) a horse and some clothes, and set forward for my

father-in-law's house in Chester county, about one hundred and forty

miles from thence, where I arrived on the 4th of January, 1755, (but

scarce one of the family could credit their eyes, believing, with the

people I had lately left, that I had fallen a prey to the Indians,)

where I was received and embraced by the whole family with great

affection. Upon enquiring for my dear wife, I found she had been dead

two months! This fatal news greatly lessened the joy I otherwise should

have felt at my deliverance from the dreadful state and company I had

been in.

NARRATIVE OF THE CAPTIVITY

OF

JONATHAN CARVER.

Gen. Webb, who commanded the English army in North America, which was

then (1757) encamped at fort Edward, having intelligence that the French

troops, under Monsieur Montcalm, were making some movements toward fort

William Henry, he detached a corps of about fifteen hundred men,

consisting of English and provincials, to strengthen the garrison. In

this party I went as a volunteer among the latter.

The apprehensions of the English general were not without foundation;

for, the day after our arrival, we saw lake George, (formerly lake

Sacrament,) to which it lies contiguous, covered with an immense number

of boats; and, in a few hours, we found our lines attacked by the French

general, who had just landed with eleven thousand regulars and

Canadians, and two thousand Indians. Colonel Monro, a brave officer,

commanded the fort, and had no more than two thousand three hundred men

with him, our detachment included.

With these, he made a gallant defense, and probably would have been

able, at last, to preserve the fort, had he been properly supported, and

permitted to continue his efforts. On every summons to surrender, sent

by the French general, who offered the most honorable terms, his answer

repeatedly was, that he yet found himself in a condition to repel the

most vigorous attack his besiegers were able to make; and, if he thought

his present force insufficient, he could soon be supplied with a greater

number from the adjacent army.

But the colonel having acquainted General Webb with his situation, and

desired that he would send him some fresh troops, the general dispatched

a messenger to him with a letter, wherein he informed him that it was

not in his power to assist him, and, therefore, gave him orders to

surrender up the fort, on the best terms he could procure. This packet

fell into the hands of the French general, who immediately sent a flag

of truce, desiring a conference with the governor.

They accordingly met, attended only by a small guard, in the center

between the lines; when Monsieur Montcalm told the colonel that he was

come in person to demand possession of the fort, as it belonged to the

king his master. The colonel replied, that he knew not how that could

be, nor should he surrender it up, while it was in his power to defend

it.

The French general rejoined, at the same time delivering the packet into

the colonel's hand, "By this authority do I make the requisition." The

brave governor had no sooner read the contents of it, and was convinced

that such were the orders of the commander-in-chief, and not to be

disobeyed, than he hung his head in silence, and reluctantly entered

into a negotiation.

In consideration of the gallant defense the garrison had made, they were

to be permitted to march out with all the honors of war, to be allowed

covered wagons to transport their baggage to fort Edward, and a guard to

protect them from the fury of the savages.

The morning after the capitulation was signed, as soon as day broke, the

whole garrison, now consisting of about two thousand men, besides women

and children, were drawn up within the lines, and on the point of

marching off, when great numbers of the Indians gathered about, and

began to plunder. We were at first in hopes that this was their only

view, and suffered them to proceed without opposition. Indeed, it was

not in our power to make any, had we been so inclined; for though we

were permitted to carry off our arms, yet we were not allowed a single

round of ammunition. In these hopes, however, we were disappointed; for

presently some of them began to attack the sick and wounded, when such

as were not able to crawl into the ranks, notwithstanding they

endeavored to avert the fury of their enemies by their shrieks or

groans, were soon dispatched.

Here we were fully in expectation that the disturbance would have

concluded; and our little army began to move; but in a short time we saw

the front division driven back, and discovered that we were entirely

encircled by the savages. We expected every moment that the guard, which

the French, by the articles of capitulation, had agreed to allow us,

would have arrived, and put an end to our apprehensions; but none

appeared. The Indians now began to strip every one, without exception,

of their arms and clothes, and those who made the least resistance felt

the weight of their tomahawks.

I happened to be in the rear division, but it was not long before I

shared the fate of my companions. Three or four of the savages laid

hold of me, and while some held their weapons over my head, the others

soon disrobed me of my coat, waistcoat, hat, and buckles, omitting not

to take from me what money I had in my pocket. As this was transacted

close by the passage that led from the lines on to the plain, near which

a French sentinel was posted, I ran to him and claimed his protection;

but he only called me an English dog, and thrust me with violence back

again into the midst of the Indians.

I now endeavored to job a body of our troops that were crowded together

at some distance; but innumerable were the blows that were made at me

with different weapons, as I passed on; luckily, however, the savages

were so close together that they could not strike at me without

endangering each other. Notwithstanding which, one of them found means

to make a thrust at me with a spear, which grazed my side, and from

another I received a wound, with the same kind of weapon, in my ankle.

At length I gained the spot where my countrymen stood, and forced myself

into the midst of them. But before I got thus far out of the hands of

the Indians, the collar and wristbands of my shirt were all that

remained of it, and my flesh was scratched and torn in many places by

their savage gripes.

By this time the war-whoop was given, and the Indians began to murder

those that were nearest to them, without distinction. It is not in the

power of words to give any tolerable idea of the horrid scene that now

ensued; men, women, and children were dispatched in the most wanton and

cruel manner, and immediately scalped. Many of these savages drank the

blood of their victims, as it flowed warm from the fatal wound.

We now perceived, though too late to avail us, that we were to expect no

relief from the French; and that, contrary to the agreement they had so

lately signed, to allow us a sufficient force to protect us from these

insults, they tacitly permitted them; for, I could plainly perceive the

French officers walking about at some distance, discoursing together

with apparent unconcern. For the honor of human nature, I would hope

that this flagrant breach of every sacred law proceeded rather from the

savage disposition of the Indians, which, I acknowledge, it is sometimes

almost impossible to control, and which might now unexpectedly have

arrived to a pitch not easily to be restrained, than to any premeditated

design in the French commander. An unprejudiced observer would, however,

be apt to conclude, that a body of ten thousand christian troops--most

christian troops--had it in their power to prevent the massacre from

becoming so general. But, whatever was the cause from which it arose,

the consequences of it were dreadful, and not to be paralleled in modern

history.

As the circle in which I stood inclosed, was by this time much thinned,

and death seemed to be approaching with hasty strides, it was proposed

by some of the most resolute, to make one vigorous effort, and endeavor

to force our way through the savages, the only probable method of

preserving our lives, that now remained. This, however desperate, was

resolved on, and about twenty of us sprang at once into the midst of

them.

In a moment we were all separated, and what was the fate of my

companions I could not learn till some months after, when I found that

only six or seven of them effected their design. Intent only on my own

hazardous situation, I endeavored to make my way through my savage

enemies in the best manner possible. And I have often been astonished

since, when I have recollected with what composure I took, as I did,

every necessary step for my preservation. Some I overturned, being at

that time young and athletic, and others I passed by, dexterously

avoiding their weapons; till at last two very stout chiefs, of the most

savage tribes, as I could distinguish by their dress, whose strength I

could not resist, laid hold of me by each arm, and began to force me

through the crowd.

I now resigned myself to my fate, not doubting but that they intended to

dispatch me, and then to satiate their vengeance with my blood, as I

found they were hurrying me toward a retired swamp that lay at some

distance. But, before we had got many yards, an English gentleman of

some distinction, as I could discover by his breeches, the only covering

he had on, which were of fine scarlet velvet, rushed close by us. One of

the Indians instantly relinquished his hold, and springing on this new

object, endeavored to seize him as his prey; but the gentleman being

strong, threw him on the ground, and would probably have got away, had

not he who held my other arm quitted me to assist his brother. I seized

the opportunity, and hastened away to join another party of English

troops that were yet unbroken, and stood in a body at some distance. But

before I had taken many steps, I hastily cast my eye toward the

gentleman, and saw the Indian's tomahawk gash into his back, and heard

him utter his last groan. This added both to my speed and desperation.

I had left this shocking scene but a few yards, when a fine boy, about

twelve years of age, that had hitherto escaped, came up to me, and

begged that I would let him lay hold of me, so that he might stand some

chance of getting out of the hands of the savages. I told him that I

would give him every assistance in my power, and to this purpose, bid

him lay hold; but in a few moments he was torn from my side, and by his

shrieks I judge was soon demolished. I could not help forgetting my own

cares for a minute, to lament the fate of so young a sufferer; but it

was utterly impossible for me to take any methods to prevent it.

I now got once more into the midst of friends, but we were unable to

afford each other any succor. As this was the division, that had

advanced the furthest from the fort, I thought there might be a

possibility (though but a bare one) of my forcing my way through the

outer ranks of the Indians, and getting to a neighboring wood, which I

perceived at some distance. I was still encouraged to hope by the almost

miraculous preservation I had already experienced.

Nor were my hopes in vain, or the efforts I made ineffectual. Suffice to

say, that I reached the wood; but, by the time I had penetrated a little

way into it, my breath was so exhausted that I threw myself into a

break, and lay for some minutes apparently at the last gasp. At length I

recovered the power of respiration; but my apprehensions returned with

all their former force, when I saw several savages pass by, probably in

pursuit of me, at no very great distance. In this situation I knew not

whether it was better to proceed, or endeavor to conceal myself where I

lay till night came on; fearing, however, that they would return the

same way, I thought it most prudent to get further from the dreadful

scene of my distresses. Accordingly, striking into another part of the

wood, I hastened on as fast as the briers and the loss of one of my

shoes would permit me; and after a slow progress of some hours, gained a

hill that overlooked the plain which I had just left, from whence I

could discern that the bloody storm still raged with unabated fury.

But, not to tire my readers, I shall only add, that after passing three

days without subsistence, and enduring the severity of the cold dews for

three nights, I at length reached fort Edward; where, with proper care

my body soon recovered its wonted strength, and my mind, as far as the

recollection of the late melancholy events would permit, its usual

composure.

It was computed that fifteen hundred persons were killed or made

prisoners by these savages during this fatal day. Many of the latter

were carried off by them and never returned. A few, through favorable

accidents, found their way back to their native country, after having

experienced a long and severe captivity.

The brave Col. Monro had hastened away, soon after the confusion began,

to the French camp, to endeavor to procure the guard agreed by the

stipulation; but his application proving ineffectual, he remained there

till General Webb sent a party of troops to demand and protect him back

to fort Edward. But these unhappy occurrences, which would probably have

been prevented had he been left to pursue his own plans, together with

the loss of so many brave fellows, murdered in cold blood, to whose

valor he had been so lately a witness, made such an impression on his

mind that he did not long survive. He died in about three months, of a

broken heart, and with truth might it be said, that he was an honor to

his country.

I mean not to point out the following circumstance as the immediate

judgment of Heaven, and intended as an atonement for this slaughter, but

I cannot omit that very few of those different tribes of Indians that

shared in it ever lived to return home. The small-pox, by means of their

communication with the Europeans, found its way among them, and made an

equal havoc to what they themselves had done. The methods they pursued

on the first attack of that malignant disorder, to abate the fever

attending it, rendered it fatal. While their blood was in a state of

fermentation, and nature was striving to throw out the peccant matter,

they checked her operations by plunging into the water; the consequence

was that they died by hundreds. The few that survived, were transformed

by it into hideous objects, and bore with them to the grave deep

indented marks of this much dreaded disease.

Monsieur Montcalm fell soon after on the plains of Quebec.

That the unprovoked cruelty of this commander was not approved of by the

generality of his countrymen, I have since been convinced of by many

proofs. Only one, however, which I received from a person who was

witness to it, shall I at present give. A Canadian merchant, of some

consideration, having heard of the surrender of the English fort,

celebrated the fortunate event with great rejoicings and hospitality,

according to the custom of that country; but no sooner did the news of

the massacre which ensued reach his ears, than he put an immediate stop

to the festivities, and exclaimed in the severest terms against the

inhuman permission; declaring at the same time that those who had

connived at it had thereby drawn down on that part of their king's

dominions the vengeance of Heaven. To this he added, that he much feared

the total loss of them, would deservedly be the consequence. How truly

this prediction has been verified, we well know.

NARRATIVE OF THE CAPTIVITY

OF

MRS. SCOTT.

Mrs. Scott, a resident of Washington county, Virginia, was taken captive

by Indians on the night of the twenty-ninth of June, 1785. Her husband

and all her children were slain; and before morning she was forced to

commence her march through the wilderness.

On the eleventh day of her captivity, while in charge of four Indians,

provision becoming scarce, a halt was made, and three of the number went

on a hunting excursion. Being left in the care of an old man, she made

him believe she was reconciled to her condition, and thus threw him off

his guard. Anxious to escape, and having matured her plans, she asked

him, in the most disinterested manner possible, to let her go to a small

stream, near by, and wash her apron, which was besmeared with the blood

of one of her children. He gave her leave, and while he was busy in

"graining a deer-skin," she started off. Arriving at the stream, without

a moment's hesitation, she pushed on in the direction of a mountain.

Traveling till late at night, she came into a valley where she hoped to

find the track along which she had been taken by her captors, and

thereby be able to retrace her steps. Hurrying across the valley to the

margin of a river, which she supposed must be the eastern branch of the

Kentucky, she discovered in the sand the tracks of two men who had

followed the stream upward and returned. Thinking them to be the prints

of pursuers, and that they had returned from the search, she took

courage, thanked God, and was prepared to continue her flight.

On the third day she came very near falling into the hands of savages, a

company whom she supposed had been sent to Clinch river on a pilfering

excursion. Hearing their approach before they came in sight, she

concealed herself, and they passed without noticing her. She now became

greatly alarmed, and was so bewildered as to lose her way and to wander

at random for several days.

At length, coming to a stream that seemed to flow from the east, she

concluded it must be Sandy river; and resolving to trace it to its

source, which was near a settlement where she was acquainted, she pushed

on for several days, till she came into mountainous regions and to

craggy steeps. There, in the vicinity of a "prodigious water-fall," she

was forced to leap from a precipice, upon some rocks, and was so stunned

as to be obliged to make a short delay in her journey.

Soon after passing through the mountain, (Laurel mountain,) she was

bitten by a snake which she supposed was venomous. She killed it, and

expected her turn to die would come next; but the only injury she

received was some pain and the slight swelling of one foot. A writer,

whose narration we follow, and whose facts are more reliable than his

philosophy, thinks that, being "reduced to a mere skeleton, with

fatigue, hunger and grief," she was probably, on that account, "saved

from the effects of the poisonous fangs."

Leaving the river, Mrs. Scott came to a forked valley, and watching the

flight of birds, took the branch they did, and in two days came in sight

of New Garden, the settlement on Clinch river, before referred to. Thus,

after wandering in the wilderness for six long weeks, almost destitute

of clothing, without a weapon of defense or instrument for obtaining

provision; exposed to wild beasts and merciless savages; subsisting a

full month on the juice of young cane stalks, sassafras leaves and

similar food, looking to God in prayer for guidance by day, and for

protection by night, shielded from serious harm, and led by an unseen

Hand, on the eleventh of August, the wanderings of the widowed and

childless captive were brought to a close.

J. C.

THE END.

* * * * *

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:

Punctuation has been corrected without note.

Alternate and archaic spellings have been retained unless

listed below.

Obvious misprints have been corrected without note.

Inconsistencies in the hyphenation of native words have

been retained.

Page 10: "Allegany" changed to "Alleghany" (in which I had

descended the Alleghany).

Page 10: "Apalachian" changed to "Appalachian" (their

parent beds in the Appalachian range.)

Page 13: "bouyancy" changed to "buoyancy" (idea of the

buoyancy of American character).

Page 13: "Cincinnatti" changed to "Cincinnati" (the late

Dr. Sellman of Cincinnati).

Page 16: "Cincinnatti" changed to "Cincinnati" (occurred

on the descent to Cincinnati).

Page 23: "Pittsburg" changed to "Pittsburgh" (from

Pittsburgh to Shawneetown).

Page 29: "seige" changed to "siege" (he was at the siege

of Bergen-op-zoom) and (at the siege of Louisburg).

Page 32: "withou-" changed to "without" (without beds or

fire).

Page 37: "deluvial" changed to "diluvial" (large areas of

diluvial earth).

Page 40: "porphorytic" changed to "porphyritic" (the

greenstone is handsomely porphyritic).

Page 41: "Sante" changed to "Santa" (to Santa Fe and

Chihuahua.)

Page 42: "mountanious" changed to "mountainous" (the wide

and mountainous tracts).

Page 42: "minerological" changed to "mineralogical"

(several objects of mineralogical and geological

collection).

Page 43: "Massachussetts" changed to "Massachusetts" (the

one native of Massachusetts).

Page 44: "injre" changed to "injure" (hobbled he will

injure his legs).

Page 44: "characterestics" changed to "characteristics"

(thus united characteristics of three varieties).

Page 48: "shists" changed to "schists" (broken down slates

and schists).

Page 55: "seanned" changed to "scanned" (and vale after

vale were patiently scanned).

Page 58: "ancle" changed to "ankle" (well nigh cured his

ankle).

Page 68: "auspicies" changed to "auspices" (under better

auspices).

Page 71: "CONSTUTION" changed to "CONSTITUTION" (AND

CONSTITUTION OF THE INDIAN FAMILY).

Page 74: "lattitude" changed to "latitude" (the tribes

north of latitude 42 deg..)

Page 75: "somtimes" changed to "sometimes" (and such is,

sometimes the case).

Page 76: "horriffic" changed to "horrific" (is to some

horrific).

Page 83: "cot" changed to "not" (did not alter her

purpose).

Page 86: "indominitable" changed to "indomitable" (and

each was the indomitable foe of the race.)

Page 93: "accasion" changed to "occasion" (On another

occasion).

Page 100: "her's" changed to "hers" (She rested with hers

suspended).

Page 100: "dissention" changed to "dissension" (Internal

dissension has done more to destroy).

Page 109: "Sault-ste-Mairie" changed to "Sault Ste-Marie"

(and aged and respected hunter of Sault Ste-Marie).

Page 111: "impercations" changed to "imprecations"

(denouncing imprecations upon).

Page 114: "Bawaiting" changed to "Bawating" (they were

permitted to remain at Bawating).

Page 114: "Obenangoes" changed to "Obinangoes" (The

Obinangoes eventually emigrated).

Page 114: "compasionate" changed to "compassionate" (mild,

and compassionalte tone).

Page 114: "ths" changed to "the" (again assured that the

cord).

Page 124: "un" changed to "an" (he had made an upright

figure).

Page 125: word missing in original (The idea grew into his

mind that at some "missing word").

Page 126: "passsed" changed to "passed" (many days

passed).

Page 132: "Bawiting" changed to "Batwating" (along the

north coast of lake Huron to Bawating) and (along the

north shore of lake Huron and of Bawating).

Page 135: "beseiged" changed to "besieged" (who besieged

twelve and took nine).

Page 135: "Pittsburg" changed to "Pittsburgh" (the present

sites of Pittsburg and Erie).

Page 140: "Chagomiegon" changed to "Chagoimegon"

(rendezvous was Chagoimegon).

Page 145: "cheiftan" changed to "chieftain" (And the fate

of their chieftain deplore--deplore).

Page 148: "glace" changed to "glance" (only necessary to

glance backward a short way).

Page 161: "visiter" changed to "visitor" (that the fearful

visitor came.)

Page 165: "motly" changed to "motley" (The motley heap of

gaudy and soiled stuffs).

Page 179: "listle" changed to "little" (and be allowed a

little time to replenish).

Page 189: "peces" changed to "pieces" (on the bright side

of one of the brass pieces).

Page 192: "Chegoimgon" changed to "Chegoimegon" (located

at Chegoimegon, on Lake Superior).

Page 192: "Sault Ste. Maries" changed to "Sault Ste Marie"

(the late Mr. Nolin, of Sault Ste. Marie).

Page 193: "authoritive" changed to "authoritative" (adding

in an authoritative voice).

Page 197: "eat" changed to "ate" (took up the grass braid

and ate it).

Page 200: "INTERPRTER" changed to "INTERPRETER" (TO THE

INTERPRETER).

Page 201: "groupe" changed to "group" (Philology brings

into one group).

Page 203: "geograghical" changed to "geographical" (these

tribes in their geographical position).

Page 212: "atlar" changed to "altar" (to violating the

altar).

Page 214: "Chesapeak" changed to "Chesapeake" (lying on

the eastern shores of Chesapeake bay.)

Page 219: "recal" changed to "recall" (from the race whose

memory they recall).

Page 225: "raphsodies" changed to "rhapsodies" (to these

bold and unfettered rhapsodies).

Page 233: duplicate "of" deleted (and modes of life).

Page 234: "groupes" changed to "groups" (and the adjacent

groups of islands).

Page 234: incomplete sentence in original (a popular

corruption, in the north-west, of Athabasca, which see.)

Page 234: "erea" changed to "era" (in the present era of

the United States).

Page 235: "lauguage" changed to "language" (their language

as observed by).

Page 240: "alcadia" changed to "alcaldia" (of the alcaldia

mayor of Nexapa).

Page 248: "Massachusets" changed to "Massachusetts" (and

in part in Springfield, Massachusetts.)

Page 250: "Mechilimackinac" changed to "Michilimackinac"

(Chippewa chief of Point St. Ignace, Michilimackinac).

Page 252: "Lousiana" changed to "Louisiana" (during their

residence in Louisiana.)

Page 254: "molodious" changed to "melodious" (They have

melodious soft voices).

Page 258: "Janerio" changed to "Janeiro" (the woods and

mountains south of Rio Janerio.)

Page 265: "Apallachians" changed to "Appalachians"

(Appalachians; a nation of Indians who formerly).

Page 265: "Apallachian" changed to "Appalachian" (the

leading range of the Appalachian mountains.)

Page 265: "Apallachians" changed to "Appalachians" (the

northern groups of the West Indies, to the Appalachians).

Page 267: "Shoisk" changed to "Shoiskw" in the table for

consistency.

Page 271: duplicate sentence deleted (Minwaewa, a pleasant

sound.)

Page 275: "preceeded" changed to "preceded" (a negative

form when it is preceded by the adverb.)

Page 281: "synonomous" changed to "synonymous" (used as

synonymous with person.)

Page 282: "Posessive" changed to "Possessive" (B:

Possessive inflection.)

Page 286 and 287 appear to have been reversed in the

original. The pages have been switched, but the beginning

of page 288 does not correspond to the preceding text.

Page 288: "Louisaina" changed to "Louisiana" (in upper

Louisiana).

Page 288: "seige" changed to "siege" (after a siege, Aug.

13, 1521.)

Page 299: "acurate" changed to "accurate" (a subject of

accurate investigation).

Page 300: the last sentence on the page is incomplete in

the original.

Page 303: "ryhme" changed to "rhyme" (have neither rhyme

nor metre).

Page 307: "succesful" changed to "successful" (the warrior

who should be successful).

Page 313: "charcter" changed to "character" (of a highly

favorable character).

Page 317: "fron" changed to "from" (attracted much

attention from observing).

Page 319: "arrrived" changed to "arrived" (had first

arrived in the lakes.)

Page 326: "languages" changed to "language" (speaking a

different type of language).

Page 331: "maratime" changed to "maritime" (to share in

the maritime enterprise).

Page 343: "retured" changed to "returned" (and then

returned to the boats).

Page 352: "esents" changed to "presents" (and distributing

small presents).

Page 377: there is a typo in regard to the annual interest

paid as stated in the original. The amount is left as

printed in the original.

Page 377: "Michilimachinac" changed to "Michilimackinac"

(west of the straits of Michilimackinac).

Page 386: incomplete sentence in original (in

juxtaposition in their new).

Page 386: "Delewares" changed to "Delawares" (with the

example of the Delawares).

Page 388: "disscusions" changed to "discussions" (their

civil discussions must tend to show).

Page 402: "Febuary" changed to "February" (In the month of

February).

Page 415: The two footnotes referenced in the Death Song

on this page are missing in the original.

Page 426: "possesion" changed to "possession" (regaining

possession of the fort).

Page 434: "snos" changed to "sons" (his two sons).

Page 441: "lilly" changed to "lily" (of the rush and the

water lily.)

Page 451: "Michilinackinac" changed to "Michilimackinac"

(who had been lately at Michilimackinac).

Page 460: "insence" changed to "incense" (after remaining

coiled, and receiving incense).

Page 463: "inabitants" changed to "inhabitants" (to secure

the inhabitants from the attack).

Page 477: Original is missing the footnote referenced in

the text.

Page 479: "villanous" changed to "villianous" (in that

villianous and execrable practice).

Page 481: "Apalachian" changed to "Appalachian" (at a spot

near the Appalachian mountains).

Page 483: "have" changed to "gave" (These prisoners gave

us some shocking accounts).

Page 484: "moccasons" changed to "moccasins" (and a pair

of moccasins).

Page 495: "Archepelago" changed to "Archipelago" (called

the northern Archipelago.)