Catherine Blanchan Du Bois - A Heroine Of Ancient Wildwyck
It was early in the month of June--that season of the year in which nature assumes her holiday garb, ere the sun has parched vegetation or the heat be. Come unbearable-that the following incidents are said to have transpired. The wheat-fields of ancient Wildwyck were undulating gracefully before the summer breeze; the rustling blades of corn gave promise of a rich and abundant harvest, and the forest were gorgeous with the blossoming laurel and May-apple.
The high stockade fence, the block-houses and bastions, and log cabins pierced with port-holes, seemed out of place in such a scene of pastoral beauty and repose. But the surrounding wilderness, melodious with wild-bird song, and fragrant with the perfume of wild flowers, was the covert of beasts of prey and lurking savages; hence the utmost circumspection was necessary to protect themselves against surprise. A guard was always stationed at the fort, and when the inhabitants went to labor in the fields they did so with their arms close at hand.
Lewis Du Bois arose and went about his morning duties. Returning to his log cabin for breakfast at the usual time, and the meal not being ready, acting under the impulse of the moment, he gave vent to his feelings in some unpleasant words. The gentle Catherine, who had left her beloved home in the Fatherland, where she possessed every comfort, choosing to follow the fortune of Lewis in a new and savage country, under all the privations of a backwoods life,-Catherine looked at her husband in surprise at his unwonted words; a tear started to trickle down the cheek of the young wife, as she seemed on the point of giving way to a burst of sobs, but she suddenly checked herself, and assuming the dignity of injured innocence, curtly answered him. In short this couple, on this eventful day, had their first serious misunderstanding.
The breakfast was over at last. Unlike all other meals no brisk conversation was kept up. In fact this particular breakfast was partaken of in silence, and at its close Lewis arose to go. It was his turn to labor in the field; his work lay some distance from home, and he was to take his noonday repast with him. His wife had prepared a choice venison steak, some fresh fish from the creek, a cake of the sweetest corn bread, and butter made by her own skilled hands; these she now handed him, packed carefully away in a neat little basket fashioned of white birch-bark. This she did with an averted glance, without proffering the accustomed good-bye.
Lewis was deeply pained at this: He could but think he was to blame for it all. Still his pride stood in the way of an acknowledgement on his part. Once on the threshold he was tempted to return and plead forgiveness; as he passed the little window he saw Catherine seated at the puncheon table, with her face buried in her hands. He would have gone back, but hearing his name called by other members of the working party who were awaiting him, he turned to accompany them.
During the morning Lewis felt ill at ease. His companions noted his taciturnity and vainly tried to elicit the cause. The day dragged wearily by; he longed for the hour to come when he could hasten to her side and plead forgiveness. What if something should occur, and he be not permitted to see her again! The thought startled him like a presentiment.
Notwithstanding a guard had been left at Wildwyck, so long a time had transpired since any act of atrocity had been committed, that those ordinary measures of safety that prudence would have dictated were often disregarded. On this particular morning a number of savages were noticed about the village, going from house to house ostensibly to dispose of some maize and a few beans. They had entered by all of the gates, coming in singly, or by twos and threes; and the people were unsuspectful that a large body of savages were in their very midst, ready at the favorable moment to enter upon the work of merciless slaughter and pillage.
Presently some people on horseback were seen approaching from the direction of the new village. They were enveloped in a cloud of dust, and were evidently under great excitement. As they drew nearer the people collected to learn the cause of alarm.
?Indians!? shouted the horsemen. ?The Indians have burnt the new village; to arms! to arms!?
Almost instantly the war-whoop sounded, and it seemed as if Indians rose up in the fated village of Wildwyck by magic, so rapidly did they pour out of the log cabins and places of hiding. The work of shooting, tomahawking and scalping began. The screams of affrighted women and children, the shouts of the men, the groans of the dying, were soon mingled with the roaring of the flames and the dreadful sounds of carnage.At the time of the attack Lewis was some miles away. The alarm guns were fired-the signal for every man to return to the fort. He knew some sudden and appalling danger was impending over the settlement. Then immediately followed the rattle of musketry. The fort was attacked. He saw the smoke curling up in the summer sky-the smoke of burning dwellings, and what if his own house was among those marked for destruction! Solicitude lent speed to his steps. On every hand settlers were rushing in the direction of the fort, the deepest anxiety depicted on every countenance, for all, like Lewis, had dear ones in peril.
As Lewis drew nearer the stockade he could distinguish the exultant yells of the savages-he knew the guard had been overpowered. The crackling of the flames was distinctly discernible, and the smoke and embers went up from new points as the houses were successively fired. Now he heard the piercing shriek of a female and again the wail of a child. Oh, that he had wings to fly to the rescue!
Ere he came up, breathless, with a score or more of his companions, the strife had ceased. The Indians had beheld the reinforcement coming; and securing such of the booty as they could carry away, together with a number of prisoners, they had made good their retreat. Lewis, pale and anxious, rushed in through the gate of the fort. On every side he beheld evidences of slaughter and destruction. Dwellings in flames; bodies lying about the streets, scalped and otherwise mutilated; friends gathered about the corpses of companions; others running frantically about inquiring for missing relatives, while all seemed overwhelmed with grief and terror.
With forebodings Lewis ran to the spot where his cabin stood, where he had the last glimpse of his wife at the homely breakfast table a few hours before, only to find his home a mass of ruins. He called loudly her name, but no response came. Was she taken prisoner or had she shared in the fate of many others, who met death by the flames that devoured their homes? All were too much absorbed in their own grief to heed his eager inquiries, or could not give him the desired information.
The dead had been collected, such as had not been consumed in the burning dwellings. Ten men, one woman and three children were among the victims. Bleeding, mutilated by the murderous tomahawk, the bodies were laid side by side, while sounds of bitter grief were uttered by bursting hearts. Not a soul among the living, gathered about the remains of the fallen, but had its store of grief. Such a feeling of desolation, dread, sorrow mingled with regret, as filled the hearts of the survivors of the massacre of such anguish and utter hopelessness, can only be realized by those who have passed through the ordeal.
Among those most deeply stricken was Lewis Du Bois. His house and all his earthly goods were in ashes; his wife, he at last teamed, had been carried off a prisoner with other females and some children; and though he could not mourn her as dead, yet she might be reserved for a worse fate. It was not the least poignant part of his regret that the last words spoken to her- the last he might ever be permitted to speak-were those of anger; and that his last remembrance of her was her form seated at the little table sobbing at his harsh words.
But those border men were not the ones to waste precious moments in outward exhibitions of grief when duty called to act. To prepare the dead for burial, and, if possible, to rescue the prisoners, were measures immediately resolved upon. The former was a sad duty, the latter a most dangerous task. All fear was banished from those whose wives and children were in the hands of savages; they would dare anything that promised a rescue. While a few were left in charge of the fort, a band of thirty resolute men were assembled and sent in pursuit of the savages. With heavy hearts and anxious forebodings the remnant of the village saw this little band of heroes depart on their errand of difficulty and danger, following them with tearful and prayerful anxiety until they disappeared in the adjacent forest, when they betook themselves to the sad rites of the sepulture of their slain comrades.
We will next follow the adventures of the weeping captives, torn from their homes by a band of whooping savages, red with the blood of their slaughtered relatives. For the first few miles the demeanor of their savage captors was harsh and violent. They would menace them with the tomahawk by way of urging them to a more rapid movement. The Indians evidently feared pursuit, and they were anxious to put as many miles between them and their possible pursuers as they could. Once out of reach of immediate danger the party slackened their pace, and conducted the retreat more leisurely. Just before nightfall one of the prisoners gave out; she was tomahawked and scalped, and left where she fell. At last a halt was ordered, and the party prepared to bivouac for the night.
Fires were lighted, and the savages arranged themselves for the evening meal. The prisoners were permitted to remain in company, a little apart from the savages, with a single sentinel to keep watch over them. They were not a little alarmed at the noise made by the wild animals in the woods around them, but were spared the knowledge at the time that those sounds were made by beasts of prey, as they fought and feasted on the body of their lamented sister, tomahawked that afternoon.
They were here destined to have the remembrance of their misfortunes awakened anew, as the savages displayed the booty they had carried off from the fort. Mrs. B. beheld a scarlet cloak that her little boy wore when he was brained by a savage-his scream of terror was still ringing in her ears. Mrs. G. recognized a coat as belonging to her husband, who was shot down and scalped before her eyes. Catherine Du Bois beheld all this with feelings of mingled emotion. As far as she knew her husband was alive. And as the occurrences of the day came up before her she thought was she not a little at fault for the misunderstanding of the morning? Might she not have been a little more patient, and not have cast back such a retort? It was their first quarrel, and now they might never meet again. Ah, those words! Would they had remained unspoken!
The next morning the party again took up the line of march, following the alluvial bottoms along the banks of a stream. Towards noon a messenger arrived, and after a hurried consultation the savages divided into two parties, the larger one under the leadership of a hideously painted savage, while the smaller kept to the original course, which continued in charge of the prisoners.
Towards the close of the day
a halt was called. The captives had now traversed the whole distance
between the present city of
Catherine and her companions now beheld some movements of the Indians that concerned them greatly. Some of their captors had been gathering fagots, (fagots: wood for funeral pyres or a burning at the stake) and piling them into heaps-equal in number to the prisoners-while others were driving sharpened stakes into the ground near the piles of sticks. Under other circumstances these proceeding would have filled them with consternation; but these heroic women actually looked upon these preparations for their own torture with a degree of satisfaction, as they believed they beheld evidence of a speedy deliverance from their earthly troubles.
The band of Christian women bowed their heads and prayed to the Giver of all Good, that He would, in His infinite mercy, if consistent with His will, restore them to their homes and families; or if it should be theirs to suffer at the stake, that He would impart strength for the terrible ordeal that they beheld awaiting them. Then their pent-up feelings broke forth in song; and with swelling hearts, yet with voices unbroken, those captives sang Marot`s beautiful French hymn, of which the following is a part:
This was the first Christian song heard on the banks of the Shawangunk kill. Tradition says the savages were charmed with the music, and delayed the execution of the singers while they listened. Was the last stanza given above prophetic of what was then and there to take place? In answer to their prayers, God had sent them deliverance. A panic seized the red men, and they fled in dismay for the mountains. The captives, not knowing the cause of alarm, ran after them; but they presently heard the sound of well-known voices calling them back. The next moment they were clasped in the arms of their husbands and brothers.
The day was too far spent to start on the return journey, so they composed themselves for the night, with the dried leaves of the preceding autumn for couches, and the overhanging branches for shelter. The fires were lighted of the fagots gathered by the Indians, though, providentially, not for the original purpose of torture, but for warmth and comfort.
The night was sleepless. Each recounted to the others matters of interest relating to the death of friends at the village, and incidents of the captivity and pursuit. The sympathy of all was drawn out towards one of the relieving party, who, the day previous, had come upon the remains of his wife in the woods. It was she who had been tomahawked and scalped, not having the strength to keep up with the other prisoners; a pack of wolves had devoured most of the flesh, the only means of identification being her dress. The journey home was begun next morning, where a warm welcome awaited them.