USA > New Hampshire > Gathered sketches from the early history of New Hampshire and Vermont, containing vivid and interesting account of a great variety of the adventures of our forefathers, and of other incidents of olden times > Part 3
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THE BOAR AND THE BEAR.
of the wounded were still heard, but grew fainter and fainter, until wholly lost in death. But the anxious Anna had not removed from her position before the old boar came rushing through the bushes in eager pursuit of his charge, which had eloped and left him in the rear by many a rood. He was fresh from the field of combat. He was bathed in blood, foaming at the mouth, gnashing his tusks, and ex- hibiting a terrific aspect. Regardless of home, he approached a field of corn which grew near the cabin, and leaped the fence, not touching the top- most knot, although it was proof against horses which strayed through the woods from neighboring towns in Massachusetts. He passed directly through the field, without touching a kernel of corn, and, leaping the fence on the opposite side, disappeared in the woods. Not long after the wished-for hus- band, whose presence the gathering shades of even- ing, the deep solitude of the place, and the stirring events of the afternoon, had rendered peculiarly in- viting to the young partner of his toils and hopes, returned with his axe upon his shoulder, enlivening the forest with his evening whistle, and driving his old bell-cow before him, which summoned Anna with her milk pail to her evening task.
Scarcely had he secured the topmost rail to his yard enclosure, when Anna, from the window of her cabin, saw her husband held in anxious suspense. For some moments he paused and listened, but turned and called, " Anna, Anna, bring me my gun and am- munition in a minute, for the old master himself is 4 *
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THE BOAR AND THE BEAR.
worsted." They were at his hand in a trice. "Look to yourself," said the husband, and bounded into the forest .* Pursuing with great speed the course whence the sound proceeded, which alone broke the silence of the evening, our adventurer soon found himself at the distance of about a mile and a half from his cabin, surrounded with black alders, so thickly set as to be almost impenetrable to man and beast. Before him lay Long Pond, so called, about one mile in length, and from a quarter to a half a mile perhaps in width. He was near midway of the pond, and the sound from the laboring boar and his antagonist (a mixed, frightful yell) proceeded direct- ly from the opposite shore. Nothing now remained but for him to plunge into the pond, and make the opposite shore by beating the waves, or to divide him a passage amidst the alders around one of the extremities of the pond, which could not be done short of travelling the distance of another mile. But no time was to be lost. The cries of the boar bespoke the greatest need, and the latter course was adopted ; and in a space of time and with the courage and energy which are scarcely conceived by the present generation, he arrived at the scene of action. Whose heart does not now misgive him, while nearing the battle ground, alone, in darkness, and all uncertain as to the nature of the foe ? But young Powers advanced with undaunted firmness. He was under the necessity of approaching near to
* Indians were then numerous in the town.
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THE BOAR AND THE BEAR.
the belligerents before he could make any discovery, by reason of the darkness of the night, rendered more dark by the towering trees, which mingled their branches at some sixty or seventy feet from the ground, and a dense underwood, which stood like a hedge continually before him. But as soon as he entered the area which had been beaten down during the action, he discovered the boar seated upon the ground, and still defending himself against the furious assaults of the hugest bear his eyes ever beheld. She was like his old bell-cow for magni- tude ! He drew his gun to an aim, when he per- ceived, obscurely, that the bear was on a line with him and his hog, and he could not discharge his piece without putting the life of the latter in jeop- ardy ; and as he was moving in a circular direction to procure a safe discharge, he was discovered by the bear, and she bounded into the bushes. Powers now came up to the boar, and witnessed such tokens of gladness as surprised him. It was, however, too solemn an hour with the swine to lavish upon his deliverer unmeaning ceremonies. As soon as he found himself released from his too powerful antag- onist, he prostrated himself upon the ground, and lay some time, panting and groaning in a manner truly affecting to his owner. Powers now dis- charged his gun, with a view to terrify the beasts of prey, and keep them off during the night. He struck and kindled a fire, and, upon a slight exam- ination, he found that his hog was lacerated in his rear in a shocking manner. He was utterly dis-
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THE BOAR AND THE BEAR.
abled from rising, except upon his fore feet. But to show the indomitable nature of the animal, I will relate that the boar, after some little time, recov- ered in a degree from his extreme exhaustion, and gaining the same position he had when his owner found him, began to beat a challenge for a re- newal of the combat. Again his eyes flashed with rage, he stamped with his fore feet, he chafed, gnashed with his tusks, and, foaming at the mouth, he looked around with the greatest apparent firm- ness for his antagonist. Our adventurer now drew together fallen wood sufficient to support a fire through the night, burned powder around his swine, and returned to his cabin, where he was never more joyfully received by the young wife, who, during all this while, had remained listening at the window in painful solicitude.
The next day some help was obtained, as one family had, prior to this, moved in and settled in the south-west part of the town; and the battle ground was revisited. The boar had not moved out of his place, but was still weltering in his blood. With much labor he was conveyed home in a cart ; and, as he never could become the defence of the herd again, he was yarded, fattened, and killed, and helped by his death to promote that existence to the family which he could no longer do by his life.
With a view to account for the melancholy fate of the boar, Powers and his associates went in search of the swine that was destroyed in the af- ternoon of the preceding day. They found one of
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THE BOAR AND THE BEAR.
their largest hogs slain by a bear, and, near to, a large bear was as evidently slain by the boar. From this they inferred that the first hog was mortally wounded by a bear in the absence of the boar, but the cries of the wounded soon brought the master, when a battle ensued in which the bear was slain, not, however, without loss of blood from the boar ; that during this first action the rest of the herd fled, and that the boar was in pursuit of them when he passed the cabin through the field ; that after running some miles at the point of exhaustion, he fell in with a still more powerful antagonist, when his fight was comparatively feeble, and he fell, over- powered, but not subdued.
1
THE CAPTIVITY OF MRS. ISABELLA M'COY, OF EPSOM, N. H.
COMMUNICATED BY THE REV. JONATHAN CURTIS, OF EPSOM, TO THE NEW HAMPSHIRE HISTORICAL COLLECTIONS.
1747.
THE Indians were first attracted to the new set- tlements in the town of Epsom, N. H., by discover- ing M'Coy at Suncook, now Pembroke. This, as nearly as can be ascertained, was in the year 1747. Reports were spread of the depredations of the Indians in various places, and M'Coy had heard that they had been seen lurking about the woods at Penacook, now Concord. He went as far as Pem- broke, ascertained that they were in the vicinity, was somewhere discovered by them, and followed home. They told his wife, whom they afterwards made prisoner, that they looked through cracks around the house, and saw what they had for supper that night. They, however, did not discover them- selves till the second day after. They probably wished to take a little time to learn the strength and preparation of the inhabitants. The next day, Mrs. M'Coy, attended by their two dogs, went down to see if any of the other families had returned
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THE CAPTIVITY OF MRS. ISABELLA M'COY.
from the garrison. She found no one. On her return, as she was passing the block house, which stood near the present site of the meeting house, the dogs, which had passed round it, came running back growling and very much excited. Their appearance induced her to make the best of her way home. The Indians afterwards told her that they then lay con- cealed there, and saw the dogs when they came round.
M'Coy, being now strongly suspicious that the Indians were actually in the town, determined to set off the next day with his family for the garrison at Nottingham. His family now consisted of himself, his wife, and son John. The younger children were still at the garrison. They accordingly secured their house as well as they could, and all set off next morning, M'Coy and his son with their guns, though without ammunition, having fired away what they brought with them in hunting.
As they were travelling a little distance east of the place where the meeting house now stands, Mrs. M'Coy fell a little in the rear of the others. This circumstance gave the Indians a favorable opportu- nity for separating her from her husband and son. The Indians, three men and a boy, lay in ambush near the foot of Marden's hill, not far from the junc- tion of the mountain road with the main road. Here they suffered M'Coy and his son to pass ; but as his wife was passing them, they reached from the bushes, and took hold of her, charging her to make no noise, and covering her mouth with their hands, as she
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THE CAPTIVITY OF MRS. ISABELLA M'COY.
cried to her husband for assistance. Her husband, hearing her cries, turned, and was about coming to her relief ; but he no sooner began to advance, than the Indians, expecting probably that he would fire upon them, began to raise their pieces, which she pushed one side, and motioned to her friends to make their escape, knowing that their guns were not loaded, and that they would doubtless be killed if they approached. They accordingly ran into the woods, and made their escape to the garrison. This took place August 21, 1747.
The Indians then collected together what booty they could obtain, which consisted of an iron tram- mel from Mr. George Wallace's, the apples of the only tree which bore in town, which was in the orchard now owned by Mr. David Griffin, and some other trifling articles, and prepared to set off with their prisoner for Canada.
Before they took their departure, they conveyed Mrs. M'Coy to a place near the little Suncook River, where they left her in the care of the young Indian, while the three men, whose names were afterwards ascertained to be Plausawa, Sabatis, and Christi, went away, and were for some time absent. During their absence, Mrs. M'Coy thought of attempting to make her escape. She saw opportunities when she thought she might despatch the young Indian with the trammel which, with other things, was left with them, and thus perhaps avoid some strange and bar- barous death, or a long and distressing captivity. But, on the other hand, she knew not at what dis-
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THE CAPTIVITY OF MRS. ISABELLA M'COY.
tance the others were. If she attempted to kill her young keeper, she might fail. If she effected her purpose in this, she might be pursued and overtaken by a cruel and revengeful foe, and then some dread- ful death would be her certain portion. On the whole, she thought best to endeavor to prepare her mind to bear what might be no more than a period of savage captivity. Soon, however, the Indians returned, and put an end for the present to all thoughts of escape. From the direction in which they went and returned, and from their smutty ap- pearance, she suspected what their business had been. She told them she guessed they had been burning her house. Plausawa, who could speak some broken English, informed her they had.
They now commenced their long and tedious jour- ney to Canada, in which the poor captive might well expect that great and complicated sufferings would be her lot. She did indeed find the journey fatiguing, and her fare scanty and precarious. But in her treat- ment from the Indians she experienced a very agree- able disappointment. The kindness she received from them was far greater than she had expected from those who were so often distinguished for their cruelties. The apples they had gathered they saved for her, giving her one every day. In this way they lasted her as far on the way as Lake Champlain. They gave her the last as they were crossing that lake in their canoes. This circumstance gave to the tree on which the apples grew the name of "Isa- bel's tree," her name being Isabella. In many ways 5
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THE CAPTIVITY OF MRS. ISABELLA M'COY.
did they appear desirous of mitigating the distresses of their prisoner while on their tedious journey. When night came on, and they halted to repose themselves in the dark wilderness, Plausawa, the head man, would make a little couch in the leaves, a little way from theirs, cover her up with his own blanket, and there she was suffered to sleep undis- turbed till morning. When they came to a river which must be forded, one of them would carry her over on his back. Nothing like insult or indecency did they ever offer her during the whole time she was with them. They carried her to Canada, and sold her as a servant to a French family, whence, at the close of that war, she returned home. But so comfortable was her condition there, and her hus- band being a man of rather a rough and violent temper, she declared she never should have thought of attempting the journey home, were it not for the sake of her children.
After the capture of Mrs. M'Coy, the Indians fre- quently visited the town, but never committed any very great depredations. The greatest damage they ever did to the property of the inhabitants was the spoiling of all the ox teams in town. At the time referred to, there were but four yoke of oxen in the place, viz., M'Coy's, Captain M'Clary's, George Wal- lace's, and Sergeant Blake's. It was a time of apprehension from the Indians, and the inhabitants had therefore all fled to the garrison at Nottingham. They left their oxen to graze about the woods, with a bell upon one of them. The Indians found them,
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THE CAPTIVITY OF MRS. ISABELLA M'COY.
shot one out of each yoke, took out their tongues, made a prize of the bell, and left them.
The ferocity and cruelty of the savages were doubtless very much averted by a friendly, concili- ating course of conduct in the inhabitants towards them. This was particularly the case in the course pursued by Sergeant Blake. Being himself a curious marksman and an expert hunter, - traits of charac- ter in their view of the highest order, - he soon secured their respect, and, by a course of kind treat- ment, he secured their friendship to such a degree that, though they had opportunities, they would not injure him, even in time of war.
The first he ever saw of them was a company of them making towards his house through the opening from the top of Sanborn's Hill. He fled to the woods, and there lay concealed, till they had made a thorough search about his house and enclosures, and had gone off. The next time his visitors came, he was constrained to become more acquainted with them, and to treat them with more attention. As he was busily engaged towards the close of the day in completing a yard for his cow, the declining sun suddenly threw along several enormous shadows on the ground before him. He had no sooner turned to see the cause, than he found himself in the com- pany of a number of stately Indians. Seeing his perturbation, they patted him on the head, and told him not to be afraid, for they would not hurt him. They then went with him into his house, and their first business was to search all his bottles, to see if
I
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THE CAPTIVITY OF MRS. ISABELLA M'COY.
he had any " occapee " -rum. They then told him they were very hungry, and wanted something to eat. He happened to have a quarter of a bear, which he gave them. They took it, and threw it whole upon the fire, and very soon began to cut and eat from it half raw. While they were eating, he employed himself in cutting pieces from it, and broiling upon a stick for them, which pleased them very much. After their repast, they wished for the privilege of lying by his fire through the night, which he granted. The next morning they pro- posed trying skill with him in firing at a mark. To this he acceded. But in this, finding themselves outdone, they were much astonished and chagrined ; nevertheless, they highly commended him for his skill, patting him on the head, and telling him if he would go off with them, they would make him their big captain. They used often to call upon him, and his kindness to them they never forgot, even in time of war.
Plausawa had a peculiar manner of doubling his lip, and producing a very shrill, piercing whistle, which might be heard a great distance. At a time when considerable danger was apprehended from the Indians, Blake went off into the woods alone, though considered hazardous, to look for his cow that was missing. As he was passing along by Sin- clair's Brook, an unfrequented place, northerly from M'Coy's Mountain, a very loud, sharp whistle, which he knew to be Plausawa's, suddenly passed through his head like the report of a pistol. The sudden
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THE CAPTIVITY OF MRS. ISABELLA M'COY.
alarm almost raised him from the ground, and, with a very light step, he soon reached home without his cow. In more peaceable times, Plausawa asked him if he did not remember the time, and laughed very much to think how he ran at the fright, and told him the reason for his whistling. "Young Indian," said he, " put up gun to shoot Englishman. Me knock it down, and whistle to start you off." So lasting is their friendship, when treated well. At the close of the wars, the Indians built several wigwams near the confluence of Wallace's Brook with the great Suncook. On a little island in this river, near the place called "Short Falls," one of them lived for a considerable time. Plausawa and Sabatis were finally both killed in time of peace by one of the whites, after a drunken quarrel, and buried near a certain brook in Boscawen .*
5 *
* See the article " Indian Bridge," p. 71.
PEABODY'S LEAP.
A LEGEND OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN.
MANY are the places, scattered over the face of our beautiful country, whose wild and picturesque scenery is worthy of the painter's pencil, or the poet's pen. Some of them, which were once cele- brated for their rich stories of "legendary lore," are now only sought to view their natural scenery, while the traditions which formerly gave them ce- lebrity are buried in oblivion. Such is the scene of the following adventure, -a romantic glen, bounded on the north side by a high and rocky hill, which stretches itself some distance into the lake, terminating in a precipice some thirty feet in height, and known by the name of "PEABODY'S LEAP."
At the time of the adventure, Timothy Peabody was the only man that lived within fifty miles of the place. In an attack on one of the frontier set- tlements, his family had all been massacred by the merciless savage, and he had sworn that their death should be revenged. The better to accomplish this dread purpose, he had removed to this solitary place, and constructed the rude shelter in which he dwelt, till the blasts of winter drove him to the
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- PEABODY'S LEAP.
home of his fellow-men again, to renew the contest when spring had awakened nature into life and beauty. He was a man who possessed much shrewd cunning, combined with a thorough knowledge of Indian habits, by which he had always been enabled to avoid the snares of his subtle enemies. Often, when they had come with a party to take him, he escaped their lures, and after destroying his hut, on their return homeward some of their boldest warriors were picked off by his unerring aim ; or, on arriving at their home, they learned that one of their swiftest hunters had fallen a victim to his deadly rifle. He had lived in this way for several years, and had so often baffled them that they had at last become weary of the pursuit, and for some time had left him unmolested.
About this time a party of Indians made a de- scent on one of the small settlements, and had taken three prisoners, whom they were carrying home to sacrifice for the same number of men that had been shot by Peabody. It was towards the close of the day when they passed his abode, most of the party in advance of the prisoners, who, with their hands tied, and escorted by five or six Indians, were almost wearied out by their long march, and but just able to crawl along. He had observed this advanced guard, and suspecting there were prisoners in the rear, let them pass unmolested, intending to try some " Yankee tricks " to effect their rescue. He accordingly followed on in the trail of the party, keeping among the thick trees which on either side
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PEABODY'S LEAP.
skirted the path. He had proceeded but a short distance before he heard the sharp report of a riffe, apparently very near him, which he knew must be one of the Indians, who had strolled from the main body to procure some game for their evening meal. From his acquaintance with their habits and lan- guage, he only needed a disguise to enable him to join the party if necessary, and, aided by the dark- ness, which was fast approaching, with but little danger of detection. The resolution was quickly put in operation to kill this Indian and procure his dress.
He had got but a few paces before he discovered his victim, who had but just finished loading his rifle. To stand forth and boldly confront him would give the savage an equal chance, and even if Pea- body proved the best shot, the party of Indians, on hearing the report of two rifles at once, would be alarmed, and commence a pursuit. The chance was, therefore, two to one against him, and he was obliged to contrive a way to make the Indian fire first. Planting himself behind a large tree, he took off his fox skin cap, placed it on the end of his rifle, and began to move it. The Indian quickly discovered it, and was not at a loss to recollect the owner by the well-known cap. Knowing how often Peabody had eluded them, he resolved to despatch him at once ; and without giving him notice of his dangerous proximity, he instantly raised his riffe, and its contents went whizzing through the air. The ball just touched the bark of the tree, and
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4
PEABODY'S LEAP.
pierced the cap, which rose suddenly, like the death spring of the beaver, and then fell amidst the bushes. The Indian, like a true sportsman, thinking himself sure of his victim, did not go to pick up his game till he had reloaded his piece ; and dropping it to the ground, he was calmly proceeding in the opera- tion, when Peabody as calmly stepped from his hiding-place and exclaimed, " Now, you tarnal crit- ter, say your prayers as fast as ever you can ! "
This was short notice for the poor Indian. Be- fore him, and scarcely ten paces distant, stood the tall form of Peabody, motionless as a statue, his rifle at his shoulder, his finger on the trigger, and his deadly aim firmly fixed upon him. He was about to run, but he had no time to turn round ere the swift-winged messenger had taken its flight ; the ball pierced his side - he sprang into the air and fell lifeless to the ground.
No time was to be lost. He immediately pro- ceeded to strip the dead body and array himself in the accoutrements, consisting of a hunting shirt, a pair of moccasins or leggins, and the wampum, belt and knife. A little of the blood besmeared on his sunburnt countenance served for the red paint, and it would have taken a keen eye, in the gray twilight and thick gloom of the surrounding forest, to have detected the counterfeit Indian. Shouldering his rifle he again started in the pursuit, and followed them till they arrived in the glen, where their ca- noes were secreted. Here they stopped and began to prepare for their expected supper, previous to
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PEABODY'S LEAF.
their embarkation for the opposite shore. The canoes were launched, and their baggage deposited in them. A fire was blazing brightly, and the party were walking impatiently around, awaiting the re- turn of the hunter. The body of Peabody was safely deposited behind a fallen tree, where he could see every motion and hear every word spoken in the circle. Here he had been about half an hour.
Night had drawn her sable curtains around the scene. The moon shone fitfully through the clouds which almost covered the horizon, only serving occasionally to render the " darkness visible." The Indians now began to evince manifest signs of im- patience for the return of their comrade. They feared that a party of the whites had followed them and taken him prisoner, and at last resolved to go in search of him. The plan, which was fortunately heard by Peabody, was to put the captives into one of the canoes, under the care of five of their num- ber, who were to secrete themselves in case of attack, massacre the prisoners, and then go to the assistance of their brethren.
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