USA > New York > Cortland County > Pioneer history; or, Cortland County and the border wars of New York, from the earliest period to the present time > Part 5
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they all perished, martyrs to freedom's holy cause. An Indian, who figured conspicuously in the horrid scene, told us in 1849 that whenever any of the victims at- tempted to rise from the faggot and flame, they were instantly felled to the earth, and held down by means of poles and rails.
One of these tories, whose mother had married a sec- ond husband, butchered with his own hands both her, his father-in-law, his sister, and their infant child- ren.
Another tory, of the same class, exterminated his whole family,-mother, brothers, and sisters,-and then mingled their blood in one common carnage with that of the aged father and husband.
It was, too, this same class of desperadoes who, not satisfied with effecting these heart-chilling scenes of massacre and blood, fired the houses, shot and destroyed their cattle, or cut out their tongues, leaving them still alive to roam the fields in agony.
To protect the settlement from the attacks of these piratical mountaineers, several companies were called out, with orders to hold themselves in readiness to avenge any wrong that might be inflicted upon the peaceable inhabitants of the valley. One of the com- panies had marched from Northampton county, and en- camped on the banks of one of the tributary streams of the Nescopeck creek, and while partaking of their fru- gal repast, were surprised by these barbarians, who inhumanly slew eleven of the company and severely wounded two others. Recovering from the terrible shock, from the tempest of balls, bludgeons, and toma- hawks, the Northampton boys returned them a compli-
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mentary salute from their Yankee rifles, causing an equal number to give death a horrid grin.
Wyoming will ever be memorable in history, for there occurred some of the most tragical scenes in our na- tional annals. The green turf has been made classic and consecrate, and will ever be hallowed in the imagi- nation of the heroic bard, for there are entombed the mouldering bones of many a brave warrior.
The ladies of Wilkesbarre, influenced by the true spirit of chivalry, have erected a monument over their sleeping dust. The pyramidal shaft of granite stands a memento of the white man's sufferings and a witness to the red man's cruelty.
CHAPTER VI.
PIONEER MOVEMENTS-INDIAN REFLECTIONS-REVENGE -DESTRUCTION OF THE MOHAWK VALLEY-INCIDENTS.
" But go, rouse your warriors."
The red men saw, as with prophetic eye, that their hunting grounds were soon to pass into the control of the white invaders. They saw villages spring up, as if by magic, in various parts of their dominion, and traders were besieging them along every important trail, or offering rich inducements wherever the council fires blazed as beacon lights to returning warriors. Mill sites had been marked wherever the aristocratic adven- turer had heard a cataract's roar, or seen a leaping cascade. The merchant and commissioner were seduc- ing and bribing them of their most magnificent forests. And contrary to stipulation and expostulation, emi- grants, like the frogs of Egypt, were coming in from every quarter, and laying the corner stones for royal palaces and cottage homes. British lords and French Sebastians saw thousands of castle builders ready for the work of progress, and imagined that to their dream- ing vision appeared fields of rich fertility. Towns and counties were being carved out of their inheritance. The sharp crack of Yankee rifles was heard on the
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mountain tops, while New England axes were ringing in the valleys of Canisteo, Chemung, Susquehanna, Wyoming, Chenango, Otsego, Onondaga and Genesee. Ramparts were reared, behind which the invaders might gather and concoct plans for the annihilation of the na- tives. They had heard the roar of cannon and the rattle of grape shot under the bluffs of Ticonderoga. The music from Montcalm bugles, and Bradstreet drums, was still ringing in their ears. They saw provincial rangers, bloody Britons, and French chevaliers, and knew that fire and grape had done their work of carnage and deso- lation at Niagara, Oswego, and Frontenac. They had seen the army of General Sullivan sweeping over their country from the Delaware to the Great Council, or Big Tree in Genesee Valley, laying waste their corn- fields, orchards and gardens. Forty of their towns were smouldering ruins. Or, if they turned their eyes to their rich locations bordering the Cayuga lake, nought but desolation greeted their vision, for Colonels Butler and Dearborn had despoiled them of their fondest hopes. Colonel Gansevoort had checked their ravages about Fort Schuyler, and Col. Van Schaick carried dis- aster among the Onondagas.
These expeditions, though attended with the fullest success, did not subdue the war spirit of the restless savages. They felt that they had been greatly wronged and abused by the "pale faces," who had thus uncere- moniously deprived them of their birthright. They determined on revenge, for they were unwilling to brook the indignant insult. Their council fire had been put out, and their country laid waste. Desolation sat in gloomy silence, while the hooting owl flapped his wings
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over their deserted homes, marked only by the charred logs of their demolished cabins. All was dreary and desolate. But these wrongs were to be avenged. Hate, -bitter, unrelenting hate,-was most assiduously culti- vated in the bosom of the native lords of the forest. Though defeated and driven from their castles and strongholds, they were not subdued The spirit, though " crushed, would rise again" with renewed vigor, and the haughty and stealthy foe was determined to crush and gloat over those who would thus wantonly deprive them of their rights -rights marked out and defined by the very finger of the Creator-guaranteed to them by patent or deed, by the Great Jehovah.
Nor did they long feel thus indignant, before an oppor- tunity was offered to wreak vengeance on their white oppressors.
They made a stealthy march into the Mohawk valley, with a fixed purpose to ravage, burn and kill.
The inhabitants of that ill-fated region were regarded by the Indians and tories as enemies, and sad and heart-rending were the results of such a conclusion. Hordes of savages and loyalists incessantly emerged from the forests and mountain gorges, murdering and scalping all whom they met. Even innocent women and lisping infancy were cruelly butchered by the marauding assailants.
The whole valley was rendered most desolate. If a single dwelling remained to be seen, it was like a flowery oasis looming up in the wide waste of ruin. What a sight to meet the eye of the hardy, industrious, yet gloomy and despondent pioneer ! There were the smouldering ruins, the charred bones, the mangled
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bodies of domestic animals, and the blood-stained marks of ruthless violence.
There were many brave patriot pioneers who fell by the tomahawk or the Indian's arrow, and were left to moulder and wither in the desert air. But their names, their virtues and heroic acts, have been embalmed and consecrated in the hearts and affections of a grateful people. The orator has spoken their praise ; the poet has strung anew his lyre, and breathed forth most feel- ing and tender sympathies.
" Ah ! where are the soldiers that fought there of yore ? The sod is upon them, they'll struggle no more ; The hatchet is fallen, the red man is low : But near him reposes the arm of his foe.
" The bugle is silent, the war-whoop is dead ; There's a murmur of waters and woods in their stead, And the raven and owl chant a symphony drear, From the dark waving pines o'er the combatants' bier.
"The light of the sun has just sunk in the wave, And a long time ago set the sun of the brave. The waters complain, as they roll o'er the stones, And the rank grass encircles a few scattered bones.
" The names of the fallen the traveler leaves Cut out with his knife in the bark of the trees ; But little avail his affectionate arts, For the names of the fallen are graved in our hearts.
"The voice of the hunter is loud on the breeze ; There's a dashing of waters, a rustling of trees ; And the jangling of armor hath all passed away, --- No gushing of life-blood is seen there to-day.
"The eye that was sparkling, no longer is bright ; The arm of the mighty-death conquered its might ;
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The bosoms that once for their country beat high, To those bosoms the sods of the valley are nigh.
" Sleep, soldiers of merit ! sleep, gallants of yore ! The hatchet is fallen, the struggle is o'er. While the fir-tree is green and the wind rolls a wave, The tear-drop shall brighten the turf of the brave."
In many parts of the Mohawk valley, the inhabitants were reduced to a state of suffering which will hardly admit of comparison. Every thing in the line of prop- erty was destroyed. The tories, as in many other instances, were more cruel and barbarous than the savages. It was their object and desire to make the ravages most complete. They were not satisfied with burning, plundering, driving off and killing hundreds of cattle and horses, but were determined on drenching the green earth with the blood of the oppressed. Many were tortured in the most cruel and barbarous manner. Some were burned at the stake, while others were merely scalped and left to endure the pains and horrors of a living, lingering death.
Col. Fisher, who lived near Caughnawaga, when it was burned by the Indians, made a most noble effort at self-defence in his own house. His two brothers had fallen by his side, and himself being closely pressed to the wall by a band of savages and painted tories, whooping and yelling like incarnate demons,-nerved with desperation, he resolved to make one more bold stroke for liberty. At a single discharge of his rifle, two of the enemy fell locked in the embrace of death. Two more were felled to the floor by well-directed blows from the breech of his gun, while a fifth was made crazy in consequence of having come in contact with a bunch
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of bones which was attached to the extreme end of his arm. In this way he escaped from his castle, was pur- sued by the infuriated foe, captured, scalped, and left writhing in his terrible agonies. The day after, he was discovered by a friend who had fled to the mountains, and was conveyed to his house, where he received every attention which circumstances would permit ; and al- though the wound was of the most frightful and dan- gerous character, he survived its dreadful pains, recov- ered, and lived many years after peace had been restored to his country, an honorable member of society, as well as an ornament to the republic, the freedom of which he so dearly loved.
Lucretia Mott was one of the fifty prisoners taken after the burning of Schoharie. She fell into the hands of six tories, who were as heartless and inhuman, as reckless and perfidious, as the mind could well imagine. After being compelled to minister to their menial appe- tites, she had her right ear cropped, two of her fingers amputated, besides other barbarities of a similar char- acter. She was then compelled to disrobe herself of her clothing, which was buried in her presence, after which she was left in the wilderness, many miles from any settlement, with no companion save the hooting owl, howling wolf and screeching panther, to protect her as she sought out, as best she could, her way to the desolate valley.
Mr. Sawyer was taken prisoner by a band of maraud- ing Indians, who, after having proceeded with him sev- eral miles, stopped for the night in the gloomy recess of a mountain gorge. After being, as they presumed, se- curely bound, they directed him to lie down and sleep
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with them. As he had been a terror to the Indians, he expected little else than cruel, unrelenting torture at their hands. The night was one of intense darkness. The moon had descended beyond the western hills and "gone to rest." The stars put on their weeds of mourn- ing, and refused to give their light, while thunders rolled and lightnings flashed athwart the darkened sky. The vivid flashes of lightning gave the prisoner an op- portunity to view his situation. To his surprise he found means to loosen his hands. This was effected by carefully reaching his pinioned hands to the nearest In- dian, and cautiously taking from his belt his scalping knife. His next object was to free his feet, which was soon done. He then with great care looked into the face of each of the seven savages by whom he was surrounded, and found them in a sound sleep. Just at this auspicious moment, the clouds dispersed, and the stars looked out from their hiding-places, which fully revealed the position of his oppressors. Carefully taking from the belt of the leader of the band, his tomahawk, he soon dispatched six of them, and mortally wounded the seventh. Thus having effected his release, he bent his course for a distant settlement, which he hoped the Indians had not visited, and which he reached during the afternoon of the next day.
The heart sickens as we contemplate some of the bloody tragedies and inhuman acts which were perpe- trated by these marauding parties. We have read many a tale of horror, where revenge had instigated the fiend to seek out his victim during the dark hour of night, and when no eye could witness the awful deed, save the all-seeing eye of Omnipotence, plunge the dagger to
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the heart of her whose affections he was unworthy of possessing, and send her disembodied spirit uncalled for into the presence of the great Eternal. But we can re- call no act so chilling to the heart, so dishonorable to humanity, as the one which we are about to sketch.
A family, consisting of father, mother and eight chil- dren, residing in one of the settlements adjoining Scho- harie, and which had been laid in smoking ruins, was massacred with every attending circumstance of heart- less cruelty. Near by where the mother lay weltering in her heart's blood, was a cradle containing a little babe. An old Sachem of the Iroquoy tribe, on discov- ering it, approached the cradle with his hatchet raised, with intent to dispatch it with a blow. A cherub smile played over its innocent face, which seemed to touch his heart, for his strong arm was at once nerveless, the hatchet fell from his hand, and he bent his weather- beaten, scarred frame, for the purpose of taking the little innocent in his arms, and pressing its tender form to his breast. But before he had time to effect his pur- pose, a painted tory, who had a far less feeling heart than his savage ally, plunged his bayonet in its bosom, and raising it up to the wall, cried out in tones which none but the incarnate could utter-" This, too, is a rebel."
Maria Marshall was taken captive near Oswego, by a party of savages who were returning from one of their predatory incursions into the Mohawk Valley, where they massacred several families, and burned a number of houses.
Arriving within a few miles of Oswego, the party divided in hopes of securing more convenient quarters
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for the night with some of the scattered settlers who were occupying comfortable dwellings along the line of their ancient war-path.
Five of the party were kindly entertained at the house of Mr. Marshall. The family consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Marshall, and three children, the youngest of whom was but nineteen days old. After being freely treated with the best provisions of the house, they retired to rest. Mr. and Mrs. Marshall, presuming upon the good will of the Indians in return for their generosity, felt secure, and after retiring to bed, were soon wrapped in sound sleep. But they had mistaken the character of their visitors. They were less humane, less faithful than their charitable fidelity had supposed. The hellish plot of massacre had been conceived, the first intimation of which, that reached the ears of Mr. and Mrs. Marshall, was the crackling of the burning timbers. The faith- less foe had secretly plundered and fired the house, and were now ready to take the lives of those whose bounty they had so liberally shared.
The cowardly assassins had taken positions on the outside of the house, where they stood with uplifted hatchets, ready to strike down whoever might attempt to- escape from within. Suddenly their attention was arrested by Mr. Marshall, who was hurrying through the huge columns of smoke and flame, holding in his arms his two eldest children. Presently he sprang from the door, and was cloven down with the tomahawk, wielded by the strong arm of an athletic savage. In a moment the father and his precious burthens were wel- tering in their blood, and writhing in the agonies of death. Mrs. Marshall, with feeble step, and nearly suf-
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focated with smoke, reached the door just as the roof fell in with a terrible crash. Closely folded to her bo- som was her little babe. She was soon surrounded by her inhuman assailants who demanded of her the child, and on being refused, it was seized by one of the Indi- ans, who immediately dashed out its brains on the door- step. This most detestable and horrible requital of evil for good was executed with a shameless barbarity alike frightful and revolting to the finest feelings of humanity.
Mrs. Marshall was made prisoner, and securely guard- ed by two of the Indians while the others secured the plunder.
Thus having completed the work of desolation, the marauders took up their march for Canada. When they reached Oswego, their number was increased to twenty- seven, two of whom were female captives. On the fifth day, one of them, the mother of the other, an infirm old lady, gave out ; she could go no further. She begged for her life, but it was denied her, for at that moment a tomahawk went whirling through the air on its mission of death, and sunk deep into the brains and gore of the fallen captive.
The destination of the Indians was a settlement con- tiguous to the Three Rivers, near where the Adiron- dacks, early in the seventeenth century, were defeated in a bloody and exterminating war waged against them by the Five Confederative Nations.
Notwithstanding the poor health of Mrs. Marshall, occasioned by her recent confinement, she was forced to travel from ten to fifteen miles per day, which occa- sioned still greater debility of bodily powers, as well as
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tending to enervate the more noble powers of her ex- alted mind.
The day previous to the expected time of reaching the Three Rivers, the party divided, leaving Mrs. Mar- shall still in the hands of her original captors. Early in the evening they encamped for the night on an ele- vated spot of ground, kindled a fire, stacked their arms, partook of a scanty repast, and sought rest in the em- brace of sleep. The savages had intimated to their captive the fact, that on their arrival at the end of their destination, she was to be delivered to one of the grand sachems, who would in turn give her in marriage to a young and distinguished brave of the Iroquoy nation. Shocked at the idea of becoming the wife of an Indian, she could hardly refrain from shedding tears, and other- wise bewailing her sad fate. Bereft of the protecting arm of a kind husband, mourning the loss of her dear children, all of whom had fallen by the hands of the inhuman monsters who were preparing to fetter her with the polluter's chain, far away from country and friends, and in the midst of a dense forest swarming with ravenous beasts and barbarous savages, and in the immediate power of five inhuman Indians who had wrecked her happiness and blighted her fairest hopes of life, she resolved upon death, or deliverance from a bondage more to be deprecated than the assassin's knife.
She cautiously rose from the cold, damp earth, on which she had vainly endeavored to repose her weary limbs, and noiselessly prepared for the work of mas- sacre.
The moon was careering high in the vaulted dome.
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The stars looked out in beauty from the radiant sky. The wind had died away. Not even a floating zephyr was heard among the tall trees. All was silent as the grave.
The weapons of the Indians were hastily removed out of their reach. She now examined the guns for the purpose of selecting two to assist her in carrying out the bold enterprise in which she had so determinedly engaged. They appeared in excellent order. There was one which particularly struck her fancy, as it had two barrels and was therefore better suited to her pur- pose than two of the ordinary kind. This, and a keen- edged hatchet, she deemed sufficient for her purpose. The gun was placed behind a tree near by the sleeping and unconscious foe. The hammers were drawn back, that each load might the more readily be discharged. The savages were arranged in a row-their usual habit of reposing. Nerved with desperation, she seized the tomahawk, and in less than a moment had buried it in the brains and gore of three of the depraved wretches. She then flew with great celerity to the tree, seized her gun and shot the fourth monster as he approached ; he gave one terrific yell, and all with him was over. The fifth and last of her captors, unable to find the secreted weapons, now rushed upon her with his scalping knife ; her gun having missed fire, was quickly reversed in her hands, and with a well-directed blow from the breech, she felled him to the earth, and with her hatchet gave him the finishing stroke, for he too was quivering in the last agonies of expiring nature.
Having thus exterminated her enemies, she lost no time in retreating from the scene of horror, with the
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hope of securing some friendly aid that might enable her once more to return to her friends if still alive, and to her home made desolate by savage violence and in- human barbarity. For seven long days she wandered in the gloomy forest before meeting with any human being. As the sun was about retiring beyond the west- ern horizon, faint from want of food, having subsisted on roots and plants, she was about to lay herself down for another night's rest, when she was suddenly started by the wild Indian whoop, and looking around, saw, to her consternation, a number of savages approaching the little mound upon which she reclined. They were of the Oneida tribe, and were on terms of friendship with the colonists. " Fear not, pale face," said a young brave, who saw the agitation and forlorn condition of Mrs. Marshall. He in a few words gave her to under- stand that his party was humane and benevolent, and would not in the least do her harm. She related to him how her husband and children had been sacrificed by a band of piratical invaders of the domestic hearth. He replied that he was going to pass within a few miles of her once peaceful abode, and that if she would place herself under his care, he would conduct her with safety to her home.
Thanking him for his generosity, she felt most happy in being thus protected. In a few days after she was in the midst of former friends. But how changed ! Her home presented a mere mass of charred ruins. The hand of friendship had entombed the dear ones of her bosom, for whom she had mourned and wept while held in cruel and unrelenting captivity.
There are many recorded incidents establishing the
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the patriotic character of the early pioneers, one of which relates particularly to Col. Harper, of Harpers- field. When McDonald, a tory who had acquired con- siderable celebrity for his daring deeds of cruelty, was ravaging the Dutch settlements of Schoharie, with his three hundred tories and Indian allies, Col. Harper, alarmed at the sacrifice of life and property, approached Col. Vrooman, who was in command of the Fort, and very feelingly said, " What shall be done ?" To which the Dutch colonel replied, " O, nothing at all ; we be so weak we cannot do anything." But Col. Harper was not the man to sit down in quietness, and calmly fold his arms while the country around him was being rav- aged and made desolate. He called for his horse, and passed with an undaunted spirit and firm resolve through the scattered forces of the enemy, and bent his course for Albany, where he hoped to secure assistance to free his country of the rude despoilers. Reaching Fox's Creek, he stopped for the night at a tory tavern. After partaking of a hasty meal, he called for a room and retired to rest. Soon after, the Colonel was aroused by a loud rap at the door. "What is wanted ?" said Harper, as he rose from his bed. "We wish to see Col. Harper," was the quick reply. The Colonel very coolly unlocked the door, and then seated himself on his bed, with pistols and sword by his side. Presently four men entered and closed the door. "Step one inch over that mark," said the Colonel, " and you are dead men." They stopped and showed evident signs of uneasiness. Not finding him, as they presumed, ready to bend the obsequious knee, and tremble like Belshazzar of old, they left his room. Again he closed and bolted the
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