Legends of the Shawangunk2 JR.pdf - Friends of the Sabbath ...

Catherine DuBois. 43
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
Wildwyck, when they realized the loss of friends and homes—such anguish and utter
hopelessness, can only be realized by those who have passed through the ordeal.
Among those most deeply stricken was Lewis DuBois. His house and all his earthly
goods were in ashes; his wife, he at last learned, 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 lands 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