THE BOY CAPTIVES

An Incident of the Indian War of 1695

by John Greenleaf Whittier

BEGINNING

THE township of Haverhill, even as late as the close of theseventeenth century, was a frontier settlement, occupying anadvanced position in the great wilderness, which, unbroken by theclearing of a white man, extended from the Merrimac River to theFrench villages on the St. Francois. A tract of twelve miles on theriver and three or four northwardly was occupied by scatteredsettlers, while in the centre of the town a compact village hadgrown up. In the immediate vicinity there were but few Indians, and these generally peaceful and inoffensive. On the breaking outof the Narragansett War, [1] the inhabitants had erectedfortifications, and taken other measures for defence; but, with thepossible exception of one man who was found slain in the woods in1676, none of the inhabitants were molested; and it was not untilabout the year 1689 that the safety of the settlement was seriouslythreatened. Three persons were killed in that year. In 1690 sixgarrisons were established in different parts of the town, with asmall company of soldiers attached to each. Two of these housesare still standing. They were built of brick, two stories high, with asingle outside door, so small and narrow that but one person couldenter at a time; the windows few, and only about two and a half feetlong by eighteen inches wide, with thick diamond glass securedwith lead, and crossed inside with bars of iron. The basement hadbut two rooms, and the chamber was entered by a ladder instead ofstairs; so that the inmates, if driven thither, could cut offcommunication with the rooms below. Many private houses werestrengthened and fortified. We remember one familiar to ourboyhood, --a venerable old building of wood, with brick betweenthe weather-boards and ceiling, with a massive balustrade over thedoor, constructed of oak timber and plank, with holes through thelatter for firing upon assailants. The door opened upon astone-paved hall, or entry, leading into the huge single room of thebasement, which was lighted by two small windows, the ceiling blackwith the smoke of a century and a half; a huge fireplace, calculatedfor eight-feet wood, occupying one entire side; while, overhead, suspended from the timbers, or on shelves fastened to them, werehousehold stores, farming utensils, fishing-rods, guns, bunches ofherbs gathered perhaps a century ago, strings of dried apples andpumpkins, links of mottled sausages, spare-ribs, and flitches ofbacon; the fire-light of an evening dimly revealing the checkedwoollen coverlet of the bed in one far-off corner, while in another--

 "The pewter plates on the dresser Caught and reflected the flame as shields of armies the sunshine. " [2]

Tradition has preserved many incidents of life in the garrisons. Intimes of unusual peril the settlers generally resorted at night to thefortified houses, taking thither their flocks and herds and suchhousehold valuables as were most likely to strike the fancy orminister to the comfort or vanity of the heathen marauders. Falsealarms were frequent. The smoke of a distant fire, the bark of adog in the deep woods, a stump or bush, taking in the uncertainlight of stars and moon the appearance of a man, were sufficient tospread alarm through the entire settlement and to cause the armedmen of the garrison to pass whole nights in sleepless watching. It issaid that at Haselton's garrison-house the sentinel on duty saw, ashe thought, an Indian inside of the paling which surrounded thebuilding, and apparently seeking to gain an entrance. He promptlyraised his musket and fired at the intruder, alarming thereby theentire garrison. The women and children left their beds, and themen seized their guns and commenced firing on the suspiciousobject; but it seemed to bear a charmed life, and remainedunharmed. As the morning dawned, however, the mystery wassolved by the discovery of a black quilted petticoat hanging on theclothes-line completely riddled with balls. 

As a matter of course, under circumstances of perpetual alarmand frequent peril, the duty of cultivating their fields, and gatheringtheir harvests, and working at their mechanical avocations, wasdangerous and difficult to the settlers. One instance will serve as anillustration. At the garrison-house of Thomas Dustin, the husbandof the far-famed Mary Dustin [who, while a captive of the Indians, and maddened by the murder of her infant child, killed and scalped, wit the assistance of a young boy, the entire band of her captors, ten in number], the business of brick-making was carried on. Thepits where the clay was found were only a few rods from the house;yet no man ventured to bring the clay to the yard within theinclosure, without the attendance of a file of soldiers. An anecdoterelating to this garrison has been handed down to the present time. Among its inmates were two young cousins, Joseph and MaryWhittaker; the latter a merry, handsome girl, relieving the tedium ofgarrison-duty with her light-hearted mirthfulness and--

 "Making a sunshine in that shady place. " [3]

Joseph, in the intervals of his labors in the double capacity ofbrick-maker and man-at-arms, was assiduous in his attentions to hisfair cousin, who was not inclined to encourage him. Growingdesperate, he threatened one evening to throw himself into thegarrison well. His threat only called forth the laughter of hismistress; and, bidding her farewell, he proceeded to put it inexecution. On reaching the well he stumbled over a log;whereupon, animated by a happy idea, he dropped the wood intothe water instead of himself, and, hiding behind the curb, awaitedthe result. Mary, who had been listening at the door, and who hadnot believed her lover capable of so rash an act, heard the suddenplunge of the wooden Joseph. She ran to the well, and, leaningover the curb and peering down the dark opening, cried out, intones of anguish and remorse, "O Joseph, if you're in the land of theliving, I 'll have you!" "I 'll take ye at your word, " answeredJoseph, springing up from his hiding-place and avenging himself forher coyness and coldness by a hearty embrace. 

Our own paternal ancestor, owing to religious scruples in thematter of taking arms even for defence of life and property, refusedto leave his undefended house and enter the garrison. The Indiansfrequently came to his house; and the family more than once in thenight heard them whispering under the windows, and saw them puttheir copper faces to the glass to take a view of the apartments. Strange as it may seem, they never offered any injury or insult tothe inmates. 

In 1695 the township was many times molested by Indians, andseveral persons were killed and wounded. Early in the fall a smallparty made their appearance in the northerly part of the town, where, finding two boys at work in an open field, they managed tosurprise and capture them, and, without committing furtherviolence, retreated through the woods to their homes on the shoreof Lake Winnipiseogee. Isaac Bradley, aged fifteen, was a smallbut active and vigorous boy; his companion in captivity, JosephWhittaker, was only eleven, yet quite as large in size, and heavier inhis movements. After a hard and painful journey they arrived at thelake, and were placed in an Indian family, consisting of a man andsquaw and two or three children. Here they soon acquired asufficient knowledge of the Indian tongue to enable them to learnfrom the conversation carried on in their presence that it wasdesigned to take them to Canada in the spring. This discovery wasa painful one. Canada, the land of Papist priests and bloodyIndians, was the especial terror of the New England settlers, andthe anathema maranatha [4] of Puritan pulpits. Thither the Indiansusually hurried their captives, where they compelled them to workin their villages or sold them to the French planters. Escape fromthence through a deep wilderness, and across lakes, and mountains, and almost impassable rivers, without food or guide, is regarded asan impossibility. The poor boys, terrified by the prospect of beingcarried still farther from their home and friends, began to dream ofescaping from their masters before they started for Canada. It wasnow winter; it would have been little short of madness to havechosen for flight that season of bitter cold and deep snows. Owingto exposure and want of proper food and clothing, Isaac, the eldestof the boys, was seized with a violent fever, from which he slowlyrecovered in the course of the winter. His Indian mistress was askind to him as her circumstances permitted, --procuring medicinalherbs and roots for her patient, and tenderly watching over him inthe long winter nights. Spring came at length; the snows melted;and the ice was broken up on the lake. The Indians began to makepreparations for journeying to Canada; and Isaac, who had duringhis sickness devised a plan of escape, saw that the time of putting itin execution had come. On the evening before he was to make theattempt he for the first time informed his younger companion of hisdesign, and told him, if he intended to accompany him, he must beawake at the time appointed. The boys lay down as usual in thewigwam in the midst of the family. Joseph soon fell asleep; butIsaac, fully sensible of the danger and difficulty of the enterprisebefore him, lay awake, watchful for his opportunity. Aboutmidnight he rose, cautiously stepping over the sleeping forms of thefamily, and securing, as he went, his Indian master's flint, steel, andtinder, and a small quantity of dry moose-meat and corn-bread. Hethen carefully awakened his companion, who, starting up, forgetfulof the cause of his disturbance, asked aloud, "What do you want?"The savages began to stir; and Isaac, trembling with fear ofdetection, lay down again and pretended to be asleep. Afterwaiting a while he again rose, satisfied, from the heavy breathing ofthe Indians, that they were all sleeping; and fearing to awakenJoseph a second time, lest he should again hazard all by histhoughtlessness, he crept softly out of the wigwam. He hadproceeded but a few rods when he heard footsteps behind him; and, supposing himself pursued, he hurried into the woods, casting aglance backward. What was his joy to see his young companionrunning after him! They hastened on in a southerly direction asnearly as they could determine, hoping to reach their distant home. When daylight appeared they found a large hollow log, into whichthey crept for concealment, wisely judging that they would be hotlypursued by their Indian captors. 

Their sagacity was by no means at fault. The Indians, missingtheir prisoners in the morning, started off in pursuit with their dogs. As the young boys lay in the log they could hear the whistle of theIndians and the barking of dogs upon their track. It was a tryingmoment; and even the stout heart of the elder boy sank within himas the dogs came up to the log and set up a loud bark of discovery. But his presence of mind saved him. He spoke in a low tone to thedogs, who, recognizing his familiar voice, wagged their tails withdelight, and ceased barking. He then threw to them the morsel ofmoose-meat he had taken from the wigwam. While the dogs were thusdiverted, the Indians made their appearance. The boys heard thelight, stealthy sound of their moccasins on the leaves. They passedclose to the log; and the dogs, having devoured their moose-meat, trotted after their masters. Through a crevice in the log the boyslooked after them, and saw them disappear in the thick woods. Theyremained in their covert until night, when they started again on theirlong journey, taking a new route to avoid the Indians. At daybreakthey again concealed themselves, but travelled the next night and daywithout resting. By this time they had consumed all the bread whichthey had taken, and were fainting from hunger and weariness. Just atthe close of the third day they were providentially enabled to kill apigeon and a small tortoise, a part of which they ate raw, not daringto make a fire, which might attract the watchful eyes of savages. Onthe sixth day they struck upon an old Indian path, and, following ituntil night, came suddenly upon a camp of the enemy. Deep in theheart of the forest, under the shelter of a ridge of land heavilytimbered, a great fire of logs and brushwood was burning; and aroundit the Indians sat, eating their moose-meat and smoking their pipes. 

The poor fugitives, starving, weary, and chilled by the cold springblasts, gazed down upon the ample fire, and the savory meats whichthe squaws were cooking by it, but felt no temptation to purchasewarmth and food by surrendering themselves to captivity. Death inthe forest seemed preferable. They turned and fled back upon theirtrack, expecting every moment to hear the yells of pursuers. Themorning found them seated on the bank of a small stream, their feettorn and bleeding, and their bodies emaciated. The elder, as a lasteffort, made search for roots, and fortunately discovered a fewground-nuts [*glycine apios*], which served to refresh in somedegree himself and his still weaker companion. As they stoodtogether by the stream, hesitating and almost despairing, it occurredto Isaac that the rivulet might lead to a larger stream of water, andthat to the sea and the white settlements near it; and he resolved tofollow it. They again began their painful march; the day passed, and the night once more overtook them. When the eighth morningdawned, the younger of the boys found himself unable to rise fromhis bed of leaves. Isaac endeavored to encourage him, dug roots, and procured water for him; but the poor lad was utterly exhausted. He had no longer heart or hope. The elder boy laid him on leavesand dry grass at the foot of a tree, and with a heavy heart bade himfarewell. Alone he slowly and painfully proceeded down thestream, now greatly increased in size by tributary rivulets. On thetop of a hill he climbed with difficulty into a tree, and saw in thedistance what seemed to be a clearing and a newly-raised framebuilding. Hopeful and rejoicing, he turned back to his youngcompanion, told him what he had seen, and, after chafing his limbsawhile, got him upon his feet. Sometimes supporting him, and atothers carrying him on his back, the heroic boy staggered towardsthe clearing. On reaching it he found it deserted, and was obligedto continue his journey. Towards night signs of civilization beganto appear, --the heavy, continuous roar of water was heard; and, presently emerging from the forest, he saw a great river dashing inwhite foam down precipitous rocks, and on its bank the gray wallsof a huge stone building, with flankers, palisades, and moat, overwhich the British flag was flying. This was the famous Saco Fort, built by Governor Phips, [5] two years before, just below the falls ofthe Saco River. The soldiers of the garrison gave the poor fellowsa kindly welcome. Joseph, who was scarcely alive, lay for a longtime sick in the fort; but Isaac soon regained his strength, and setout for his home in Haverhill, which he had the good fortune toarrive at in safety. 

Amidst the stirring excitements of the present day, when everythrill of the electric wire conveys a new subject for thought oraction to a generation as eager as the ancient Athenians for somenew thing, simple legends of the past like that which we havetranscribed have undoubtedly lost in a great degree their interest. The lore of the fireside is becoming obsolete, and with theoctogenarian few who still linger among us will perish the unwrittenhistory of border life in New England. 

[Footnote 1: The "Narragansett War" was a name applied to that part ofKing Philip's War which resulted from the defection of the powerfultribe of Narragansetts, formerly allies of the English, to the standardof the Indian chief. ]

[Footnote 2: Longfellow's *Evangeline, * lines 205, 206. ]

[Footnote 3: "Her angel's face As the great eye of heaven shyned bright And made a sunshine in the shadie place; Did never mortal eye behold such heavenly grace. " --Spenser: *The Faerie Queene, * bk. I. Canto iii. St. 4. ]

[Footnote 4: *Anathema maranatha* occurs at the close of St. Paul's firstepistle to the Corinthians, and in the English version is made toappear as a composite phrase. It has so passed into common use, *maranatha* being taken as intensifying the curse contained in*anathema*. The words are properly to be divided, *maranatha*signifying "The Lord cometh. "]

[Footnote 5: An interesting account of Sir William Phips will be found inParkman's *Frontenac and New France under Louis XIV. *Hawthorne also tells his romantic story in *Fanshawe and OtherPieces. *]