THEWOMEN DEFENDING THE WAGON.
Between the Blue Ridge and the western range of the Alleghany Mountains, in the northern part of the State of Virginia, is located Shenandoah County, which derives its name from the beautiful river, one branch of which flows through its entire length, from south to north. Its county seat is Woodstock, a thriving town, with a population of between one and two thousand inhabitants. This place was settled, previous to the French and Indian war, by hardy German yeomanry from Pennsylvania, who were tempted to leave the rugged hills of the Keystone State, by the glowing reports which had reached their ears of the surprising fertility and beauty of the valley of the Shenandoah. Gathering up their household goods, they turned their backs upon the homes of their first choice, and took their way through pathless forests to "the promised land." Arrived at their new home, they selected the site of the present flourishing town as the nucleus of the settlement, and commenced, with a will, the laborious task of felling the forest and the erection of their homes. A stockade fort was erected as a protection against the incursions of predatory bands of Indians. A short time sufficed to place them in circumstances which, if not actually flourishing, were comparatively thrifty, and so far promising as to the future, that they were led to look forward with hope to a long continued prosperity. They were a plain, frugal and industrious people, unacquainted with the luxuries and only desiring the substantial requisites of an humble life, which were furnished in abundance by the fertile soil of the valley in which they had taken up their abode. A traveler among them during the French and Indian war thus speaks of their happy condition:
"I could not but reflect with pleasure upon the situation of these people, and think, if there is such a thing as true happiness, in this life, they enjoy it. Far from the bustle of the world, they live in the most delightful climate and possess the richest soil imaginable. They are everywhere surrounded by beautiful prospects and sylvan scenes. Lofty mountains, transparent streams, falls of water, rich valleys and majestic woods—the whole interspersed with an infinite variety of flowering shrubs—constitute the landscape surrounding them. They are subject to few diseases, are generally robust, and live in perfect liberty. They are ignorant of want, and are acquainted with few vices. Their inexperience of the elegancies of life precludes any regret that they have not the means of enjoying them; but they possess what many princes would give half their dominions for—health, content and tranquility of mind."
Among others who had been attracted to this valley by the glowing accounts of its fertility and comparative security, were two heads of families by the names of Sheits and Taylor. The former was of German parentage, the latter of English birth, but having both married American women, and being drawn together by that bond of sympathy which, in a new country, where danger is a common heritage, unites with a stronger tie than that of blood—they were more like one family than two separate households.
Being driven from their homes by the massacre of two of their neighbors and their families, they hastily collected a few necessaries, placed them, with their wives and children, in a wagon, to which was attached their respective horses, and started in search of a new home. Woodstock was the nearest town, or station, where there was a fort, and toward that place they directed their steps.
The family of Taylor embraced himself, wife, and three children, while that of Sheits numbered but three—himself, wife, and one child. The few articles which the limited room in the wagon, and the hurried nature of their departure allowed them to remove, were a chest of drawers, which was a gift from the parents of Mrs. T., a feather bed, also a parental gift to Mrs. S., a brass kettle or two, some few culinary articles, and the axes and rifles of the men. These and their horses, and a stout farm wagon, were all they had saved, yet they were well content to come off with their lives, and trudged along,satisfied if they could but reach a haven of safety from the barbarities which had been inflicted upon their less fortunate neighbors and friends.
The greater portion of their way lay through the forest, where every sound to their affrighted ears gave token of an enemy lurking in their path, and the rustling of a leaf, or the sighing wind, awoke their fears, and called up their latent courage. This had been passed, however, in safety, and they had reached the brow of the hill from whence they had a view of the beautiful valley below, where they hoped to find a haven of rest. Pausing for a moment to admire the scene which opened before them, they gave vent to their feelings in eulogies upon the lovely landscape, and words of encouragement to their wives and children. Alas, as they spoke, the deadly rifle of a concealed foe was leveled full at their breasts, and the savage red-skin was thirsting for their blood, within a few feet of them. Hidden by the thick underbrush which grew up by the side of the road, five tawny warriors, painted and bedecked with their war feathers, lay crouching like wild beasts, ready to spring upon their prey. Just as they started to resume their way, and descend the hill toward the settlement, the crack of two rifles, the whizzing of two leaden messengers, and the fall of their husbands, alarmed the women and widowed them at the same instant. The aim had been sure, and both the men fell without a groan, pierced through the heart with a bullet from an unerring rifle. Quick as the flash from a summer cloud were all their hopes of safety and future happiness blasted, stricken to the earth with the fall of their husbands. No cry escaped the now bereaved women. Their feelings were too deep for utterance, nor was there any time for grief or repining. Left in an instant self-dependent, they looked around for the foe and for means of defense. Nothing was within reach but the axes of their husbands; these they seized, awaiting the onset of the savages. They had not long to wait. Pushing aside the foliage, the five warriors sprang, with a grunt of satisfaction, from the thicket into the road, and made for the wagon to secure their prisoners. The first who came up seized the son of Mrs. Taylor, and endeavored to drag him from the wagon, but the little fellow resisted manfully, looking, meanwhile, up into his mother's face, as if to implore protection at her hands. Theappeal was not lost upon her. Seizing, with both hands, the axe of her husband, and swinging it around her head, she brought it down, with all the vengeful force of her arm, upon the shoulder of the Indian, inflicting a wound which sent him off howling with pain. Turning to another, she served him in like manner, while Mrs. Sheits had sent a third back to his lair with a severe blow across the hand which severed all his fingers. The other two were wise enough to keep without the reach of their blows, but endeavored to intimidate them by terrific yells and brandished tomahawks. Nothing daunted, however, the heroic women maintained their attitude of defense, until wearied of their efforts, and, fearing the approach of relief from the garrison of the fort, the two unwounded Indians rushed into the thicket for their rifles, to end the conflict. Taking advantage of this opportunity, the women started the horses, and the red-skins, not daring to pursue them, they were permitted to reach the fort in safety, from which a party set out to bring in the dead and scalped bodies of their husbands.
Stories of such danger and fortitude as this can be but dimly realized by the women of to-day. Yet the annals of our early history are all too painfully darkened by such records; and it is well for the heroes of the prosperous present to know through what hardships this rich inheritance was secured to them. Emigration did not stop in Virginia any more than it had rested in Pennsylvania:
"Westward to the star of empire takes its way;"
"Westward to the star of empire takes its way;"
"Westward to the star of empire takes its way;"
and the glorious Valley of the Mississippi won forward the daring steps of the pioneers. It is known how long and terrible was the contest by which Kentucky was wrested, inch by inch, from her ancient owners, until her lovely soil, baptized in sorrow, received the name of the "dark and bloody ground." Here, as always where there is a chance for her development, and she is permitted to play her free part by the side of man, woman did her share of the onerous work, and had her share of the perils. One of the most terrible of the family histories of that period is the following, of the household of a widow, by the name of Shanks, full particulars of which are given in the history of Kentucky.
On the night of the 10th of April, 1787, the house of Mrs. Shanks, on Cooper's Run, in Bourbon County, was attacked by Indians. Thishouse, which was a double cabin, consisting of two rooms, with an open way between, contained, at the time the assault was made, besides the widow herself, a widowed daughter, three other daughters, a young girl, and two sons of adult age. Although the hour was near midnight, one of the young men still remained up, and in the opposite room a sister was busily engaged at the loom.
An hour before, while they were yet unconscious of the actual presence of Indians, the suspicions of the son was aroused by the cry of owls, hooting to each other in the adjoining wood, in a rather unusual manner, and by the terror and excitement of the horses, who were enclosed, as customary, in a pound near the house.
Several times the young man was on the point of awaking his brother, but as often refrained, through fear of being ridiculed for his timidity. At length hasty steps were heard without, and then came several sharp knocks at the door, accompanied by the usual question of the wayfarer, "Who keeps this house?" spoken in very good English.
He hastily advanced to withdraw the bolt which secured the door, supposing the new comer to be some benighted settler, when his mother, whose greater experience had probably detected the Indian accent, instantly sprang out of bed, and warned her son that the men outside were savages.
The other son being by this time aroused, the two young men, seizing their rifles, which were always charged, prepared to repel the enemy. Conscious that their true character was discovered, the Indians now strove to break in the door; but a single shot from the loop-hole compelled them to shift their point of attack, when, unfortunately, they discovered the door of the other cabin, which contained the three daughters.
By some oversight in the construction of the cabin, none of the loops enabled the brothers to cover the door of the room in which their sisters were. The Indians soon forced it open by means of rails taken from the yard fence. The girls being thus placed at the mercy of the savages, one was instantly secured; but the eldest defended herself desperately with a knife, and succeeded in mortally wounding a savage before she was tomahawked. The youngest girl darted out into the yard, and might have escaped in the darkness; but the poorcreature ran around the house, and, wringing her hands in terror, kept crying out that her sisters were killed.
The brothers, agonized almost to madness by her cries, were prepared to sally out to her assistance, when their mother stayed them, and calmly declared that the child must be abandoned to her fate. The next instant, the child uttered a loud scream, followed by a few faint moans, and then all was silent.
That portion of the house which had been occupied by the daughters was now set on fire, and the flames soon communicating to the opposite room, the brothers were compelled to fling open the door, and attempt to seek safety by flight.
The old lady, supported by her eldest son, sought to cross the fence at one point, while the widowed daughter, with her child in her arms, and attended by the younger of the brothers, ran in a different direction. The blazing roof shed a light over the yard but little inferior to that of day, and the savages were distinctly seen awaiting the approach of their victims. The old lady was permitted to reach the stile unmolested, but, in the act of crossing, received several balls in her breast, and fell dead. Her son providentially remained unhurt, and, by extraordinary agility, effected his escape. The other brother, being assailed by the Indians, defended his sister desperately for some time, and drew the attention of the savages so closely to himself, that she succeeded in eluding their vigilance. The brave and devoted young man was less fortunate; he fell beneath repeated blows from the tomahawks of his enemies, and was found at daylight, scalped and mangled in a most shocking manner.
Of the whole family, consisting of eight persons when the attack commenced, only three escaped. Four were killed on the spot, and one, the second daughter, carried off prisoner.
The alarm was soon given, and by daylight thirty men were assembled under Colonel Edwards, who pursued the Indian trail at a gallop, tracking the footsteps of the savages in the snow. The trail led directly into the mountainous country bordering upon Licking, and afforded evidences of great precipitation on the part of the Indians. Unfortunately, a hound had been permitted to accompany the whites, and, as the trail became fresh, and the scent warm, she pursued it with eagerness, baying loudly and giving alarm to the savages. Theconsequence of this imprudence was soon displayed. The enemy, finding the pursuit keen, and perceiving the strength of their prisoner beginning to fail, instantly sank their tomahawks in her head, and left her, still warm and bleeding, upon the snow. As the whites came up, she retained strength enough to wave her hand in token of recognition, and appeared desirous of giving them some information in regard to the enemy; but her strength was too far gone. Her brother sprang from his horse, and endeavored to stop the effusion of blood, but in vain. She gave him her hand, muttered some inarticulate words, and expired within two minutes after the arrival of the party.
The pursuit was renewed with additional ardor, and, in twenty minutes, the enemy was within view. They had taken possession of a narrow ridge, magnifying their numbers in the eyes of the whites, by running rapidly from tree to tree, and maintaining a steady yell in their most appalling tones.
The pursuers, however, were too experienced to be deceived by so common an artifice. Being satisfied that the number of the enemy must be inferior to their own, they dismounted, tied their horses, and flanking out in such a manner as to enclose the savages, ascended as rapidly as was consistent with a due regard to the shelter of their persons.
The firing commenced, and now they discovered, for the first time, that only two Indians were opposed to them. They had voluntarily sacrificed themselves for the safety of the main body, and had succeeded in delaying pursuit until their friends could reach the mountains. One of them was shot dead, and the other was badly wounded, as was evident from the blood upon his blanket, as well as that which filled the snow for a considerable distance. The pursuit was recommenced, and urged keenly until night, when the trail entered a running stream, and was lost.
We know of nothing more powerfully illustrating the life led by the women of those days, than the following statements, brief and simple as they are, made in the record of General Samuel Dale:
"About this time Joe Horn and Dave Calhoun went to their clearings to plant corn, very imprudently taking their wives and children with them, who camped in the field. Being both off hunting oneday, the prowling savages made a clean sweep of these two families. The poor, heart-stricken husbands, almost crazy, returned to the fort, and the whole night was passed by all of us in lamentations and vows of vengeance.
"For several months after this, we were not troubled, and my brother and myself were boarded about ten miles off, at Halbert McClure's, to go to school. Returning, one morning, from a visit home, we fell in with old Mr. Bush, of Castlewood Fort, who informed us that he saw Shawnee 'signs' about, and that we must go back to Glade Hollow, and give the alarm. Unfortunately, father had left, the day before, for the salt works, on Holton river, and mother and the children were alone. About nine at night, we saw two Indians approaching. Mother immediately threw a bucket full of water on the fire, to prevent their seeing us, made us lie on the floor, bolted and barred the door, and posted herself there with an ax and a rifle. We never knew why they desisted from an attack, or how father escaped, who rode up three hours afterward.
"In two or three days all of us set out for Clinch Mountain, to the wedding of Hoppy Kincaid, a clever young fellow from Holston, and Sally McClure, a fine, bouncing girl of seventeen, modest and pretty, yet fearless and free. We knew the Shawnees were about—that our fort and household effects must be left unguarded, and might probably be destroyed—that we incurred the risk of a fight, or an ambuscade, capture, or even death, on the road; but in those days, in that wild country, folks did not calculate consequences closely, and the temptation to a frolic, a feast, a wedding, a dance till daylight, and often for several days together, was not to be resisted, and off we went.
"In half an hour we fell in with Captain Barnett, and twenty men from Holston, who warned us that Indians were about, and that he was scouting for them. Father, ever eager for a fight, joined this company, and we trudged on to Clinch Mountain. Instead of the bridal party, the well-spread table, the ringing laughter, and the sounding feet of buxom dancers, we found a pile of ashes and six or seven ghastly corpses, tomahawked and scalped! Poor Hardy McClure was dead; several others lay around. One daughter was still breathing, but soon expired. Mrs. McClure, her infant, and three otherchildren, including Sally, the intended bride, had been carried off by the savages. They soon tore the poor infant from its mother's arms, and killed it, that she might travel faster.
"While they were scalping this child, Peggy McClure, a girl twelve years old, perceived a sink-hole at her feet, and dropped silently into it. It communicated with a ravine, down which she ran, and brought the news into the settlement. The Indians were too apprehensive of pursuit to search for her. The same night Sally, who had been tied and forced to lie down between two warriors, contrived to loosen her thongs and make her escape. She struck for the cane-brake, then for the river, and, to conceal her trail, resolved to descend it. It was deep wading, and the current was so rapid, she had to fill her petticoat with gravel to steady herself. She soon, however, recovered confidence, returned to shore, and finally reached the still-smoking homestead about dark next evening. A few neighbors, well armed, had just buried the dead. Kincaid was among them. The last prayer had been said when the orphan girl stood among them, and was soon in the arms of her lover. Resolved to leave no more to chance, at his entreaty, and by the advice of all, the weeping girl gave her consent, and, by the grave of the household, and near the ruined dwelling, they were immediately married."
Can imagination add anything to this vivid picture?