Page images
PDF
EPUB

Boston and sold to a church in Deerfield and was now doing service for Mr. Williams' congregation.

Hertel De Rouville, a bigoted French officer, swore to have that bell, though he waded seas of blood to obtain it, and about the middle of January, 1704, he set out with a considerable force of Frenchmen and Indians to Deerfield.

Deerfield being a frontier town, the enemy had watched it ever since war between France and England had begun. It had been constantly exposed to inroads during King Williams' war, but had resolutely maintained its own, and increased in size and population, especially since the termi nation of that war. At the time of the attack, it was in a poor condition for defence. It was im

perfectly palisaded. Several detached houses were protected by slight fortifications, and twenty soldiers had been placed within the fort; but they were quartered about in different houses and, forgetting their duty as soldiers, were surprised with the rest of the inhabitants.

George Stevens was at Deerfield, being detained by a deep snow which covered the earth. The snow was frozen hard, and the French and Indians advanced to the attack on the doomed village, over the frozen crust.

It was night, February 19th, 1704, when the assailants approached the town, using every pre

caution to avoid disturbing the soldiery or the inhabitants, by walking carefully over the crusted snow and occasionally halting, that the sounds of their feet might appear like fitful gusts of wind; but the precaution was wholly unnecessary, for the guard within the fort had retired to sleep, deeming an attack in such weather next to impossible. The snow had drifted in places quite to the top of the palisades, and the gate was even open, so that the Indians were in the midst of the town before the inhabitants were aroused. A wild war-whoop went up on the air; the houses were assaulted by parties sent in different directions; the doors were broken open and the astonished people dragged from their beds, and pillage and personal violence in all its enormities ensued. Those who attempted resistance were slain.

George Stevens was in the house of his relative, sleeping the profound sleep of youth. He heard in his slumber the wild uproar without, and it mingled with a dream of battle. Once more he was on the blood-stained deck of the Elizabeth. He was partially awakened and drew the bedclothes over his head and shoulders, when a tremendous crash at the door, and the shrieks of the terrified inmates roused him. He leaped from the bed just as the door was burst in, and an icy blast swept over his half-dressed form.

The room was

immediately filled with savages, and, knowing that captivity was certain, he had the presence of mind to don his clothes and wrap a blanket about him. He was seized by two stout warriors, and hurried away from the scene of carnage which still reigned in the town.

The minister of the place, the Rev. John Williams, who subsequently wrote a narrative of the affair and his own captivity, was a conspicuous actor and sufferer in the sad tragedy. The assault was made just before dawn of day, and about twenty Indians rushed to his house. He was awakened by the onslaught, and, leaping from his bed, he ran toward the door, which the Indians were battering down. He then called to two soldiers, who were sleeping in the chamber, and returned to his bed for the weapons which he always kept under his pillow, when the enemy rushed into the room. Seizing his pistol, he uttered a short prayer to God and, levelling the pistol at the breast of the foremost Indian, pulled the trigger; but the weapon missed fire. He was immediately seized by three Indians, who tore the weapon from his hand, tied him and kept him standing in the cold for the space of nearly an hour. One of these captors was a chief who shortly after sunrise was killed by a shot from a neighbor's house.

This house was not a garrison; but, being de

fended by seven resolute men and as many resolute women, it withstood the efforts of three hundred French and Indians. They attacked it repeatedly and tried various methods to set it on fire, but without success, all the while suffering from the fire which was poured upon them from the windows and loopholes of the building. The enemy finally gave up the attempt in despair.

Mrs. Williams had a babe but a few weeks old and was quite feeble-a circumstance which rendered her case hopeless. Her agony was intensely increased by witnessing the murder of two of her little ones, who were dragged to the door and butchered like swine, as was also a black woman who belonged to the family.

At the expiration of about two hours, the enemy, having collected the prisoners and plundered and set fire to the buildings, took up their march from the place. In his narrative, Mr. Williams says:

"We were carried over the river to the foot of the mountain, about a mile from my house, where we found a great number of our Christian neighbors, men, women and children, to the number of one hundred, nineteen of whom were murdered afterward on the way, and two starved to death near Coos, in a time of great scarcity and famine the savages underwent there. When we came to

the foot of the mountain, they took away our shoes and gave us Indian shoes to prepare us for our journey."

George Stevens, who was among the prisoners, noticed that they had brought away the chapel bell, which had been captured by the New England privateer the Elizabeth. While making a short halt here, all were startled by the cracking of rifles, and a party of English dashed on the French and Indians to rescue their friends. After a short but sharp engagement, the English were driven back, leaving nine of their number dead in the snow. The French and Indians, fearing vengeance, continued to retreat as rapidly as they could.

In the course of the route, it became necessary to cross Creek River, at the upper part of Deerfield meadow. By a change of conductors, Mr. Williams, who had before been forbidden to speak to his fellow-captives, was now permitted to do so, and even to assist his distressed wife, who began to show marked signs of exhaustion. George Stevens, who was at the side of the unfortunate mother, had aided her all he could. This was the last meeting between husband and wife. She very calmly told him that her strength was fast failing and that he would soon lose her.

Husband and wife were that day separated, and he was sent forward with another party of savages.

« PreviousContinue »