[Thomas and Hannah's descendants include our Hamblin line, see GEDCOM file]
HEROISM OF HANNAH DUSTON in 1697 in Haverhill, Essex, Massachusettes. Excerpt from
HEROISM OF HANNAH DUSTON
by Robert B. Caverly
HER BIOGRAPHY
Hannah Duston was born in Haverhill, Mass., Dec. 23, 1657; was the daughter of Michael and Hannah Webster Emerson; was married to Thomas Duston Dec. 3, 1677; and, up to the date of her captivity, had become the mother of a family of children, twelve at that date, thirteen in all.
THE INDIAN ONSET
She was captured at Haverhill March 15, 1697; her infant then being only a week old.
Mary Neff, then a widow, a neighbor, and friend, was with her, and, for the time being, was having a care for the household.
The tribes throughout New England, as appears, had, for several years prior to this attack, beset the English settlements by trespassing upon their cornfields, killing their cattle, taking and carrying away captives, and daily and nightly murdering the inhabitants, burning down their barns, their lonely cots, and their infant villages.
Always, in their depredations upon the Pilgrim settlers, they had been cunning, ferocious, coy, and cruel. Previous to this Duston massacre, they had taken at Worcester, Mass., Samuel Leonardson, a youth of some fourteen summers, and had him along with them among their captives.
At Haverhill, on that fifteenth day of March, 1697, according to the tactics of Indian warfare, they divided their tribes into small parties, and made the attack all around the town, everywhere very nearly at the same moment; so that on that day, in and about that little inland, rural village, they took and carried away thirteen captives, burned down nine dwelling-houses, and killed twenty-seven of its inhabitants, - men, women, and children.
THE SLAIN
The individuals then and there killed were John Keezer, his father, and son George; John Kimball and his mother Hannah; Sarah Eastman; Thomas Eaton; Thomas Emerson, his wife Elizabeth, and two children, - Timothy and Sarah; Daniel Bradley, his wife Hannah, and two children, - Mary and Hannah; Martha Dow, daughter of Stephen Dow; Joseph, Martha, and Sarah Bradley, children of Joseph Bradley; Thomas and Mehitable Kingsbury; Thomas Wood and his daughter Susannah; John Woodman and his daughter Susannah; Zechariah White; and Martha, the infant daughter of Mrs. Duston.
FIRST SIGHT OF SAVAGES
On that day, Thomas Duston (the husband) was in some way startled in his field at the approach of savages. He seized his gun, mounted his horse, and driving his children before him, seven in number, - ages from two to seventeen years, - all escaped. It has been said that guns were fired at him, and that he returned the shots; but this statement is beclouded with at least some doubt. It is, however, said, and perhaps correctly, that the Indians did not pursue him far, for fear of the English; and that he with the children took shelter in an old house supposed to have been used occasionally as a garrison.
In the mean time the Indians at the homestead had seized Mrs. Duston, Mary, and the infant; forced the child from Mary's arms, and killed it against an apple-tree; and, pillaging and setting fire to the dwelling-house, drove their captives away into the wilderness, - a wilderness then dense, dark, pathless, and thorny; in the confusion, Mrs. Duston having but one shoe to her feet.
The cold snows of winter had not entirely disappeared. Yet were they compelled to advance, reclining at night upon the frosty earth to obtain rest and strength, and then up at break of day, continuing their ramblings northward, by and near to the Merrimack, through the wilderness; thus onward until they reached that Indian fort on the island between the waters of the Contoocook and Merrimack Rivers.
ISLAND CONTOOCOOK
As appears, this island, containing about two acres, then (and now) covered with a dense forest, was the adopted home of one of the tribes; and, from its surroundings, it served to be a strong fortification against their common enemy, the English settlers.
For fifteen days they had continued their march through the forest, - a distance of seventy-five miles, according to our reckoning; but, according to the Indian computations of that time, two hundred and fifty miles.
But, before they reached the island, the tribe divided into two parts: the one with several captives (among whom was Hannah Bradley, whose brief biography will appear on a subsequent page) continued still farther onward to another place; while the other company, with Mrs. Duston, Neff, and Samuel, crossed over in their birch canoes, to dwell, at least for a night, on the island between the safe surroundings at the junction of these two beautiful rivers.
On their way the Indians had talked of another fort of theirs in Canada; and had intimated to the captives, that, upon their arrival there, they would be held to run the gantlet, according to the law and custom of the tribes.
GANTLET
This was usually performed thus: The group was made up by "two files of Indians of both sexes, of all ages, containing all who could be mustered in the village; and the unhappy prisoners were obliged to run between them, when they were scoffed at and beaten by each one as they passed, and were made marks of, at which the younger Indians threw their hatchets."
As if to add to these worst of cruelties, the tribes often made sale of their captives to the French in Canada, - then hostile to the English settlers in New England, - to be held to service them as slaves.
In sight of all the severities to which they had already been subjected, and in view of impending disgrace and danger, these three (Duston, Neff, and Samuel) secretly took counsel together, and resolved to liberate themselves.
HOW TO KILL AN INDIAN
Thereupon the boy Samuel inquired of one of the tribe ("Bampico") as to where he would strike if he would kill a man instantly, and how he would take off the scalp.
The Indian, bringing his finger against his temple, made answer, "Strike him there!" and he then proceeded to tell him how to take off the scalp.
SCALPING
This feat is performed by the savage as follows: Placing his foot upon the neck of his prostrate victim, he twists the fingers of his left hand into the scalplock; and then, cutting with a knife in his right hand a circular gash around the lock, he tears the scalp from the head, and fastens it to his girdle with a yell of triumph.
The scalps upon their belts on public occasions were worn to designate the warriors.
ON THE ISLAND
There, on that night, March 30, 1697, the campfires in front of the wigwams blazed pleasantly; and the tribe in front of them, reclining, and burdened with the fatigue of a restless journey, of course slept soundly.
Having a heed to all this, the captives patiently awaited the midnight hour; and then, cautiously, noiselessly, obtaining the tomahawks, and moving with concert of action, they struck the deadly blow. None of the Indians escaped alive, save one old squaw covered with wounds, and an Indian boy, whom the captives did not incline to pursue.
NUMBER OF VICTIMS
Ten of them were slain. The captives, in their haste, at first left the wigwams without full evidence of what had been done; yet soon returned, took off the ten scalps, taking also with them an Indian gun and tomahawk; and then, seeking to avoid pursuit, they scuttled the canoes, all but one; and in that they floated down the Merrimack as far as they could come for the falls, and thence along its left bank, as tradition has it, until they arrived home safely at Haverhill.
On the 21st of April in the same year (1697), they visited Boston; carrying with them, as evidence of their achievement, the scalps, the gun, and tomahawk; and, on the 8th of June thereafterwards, the General Court awarded to Mrs. Duston a gift of £25, and to Mary Neff and Samuel Leonardson £12 10s. each. Col. Nicholson, then governor of Maryland, upon hearing of the transaction, also transmitted complimentary presents to them. Many thanks, as well as material gifts, were extended to them by many others.
She History in 1697.9
From T. F. Waters: "In March [15th]of that year [1697] a band of Indians attacked a Haverhill house and carried away Hannah Dustan, with her infant of a week old, and her nurse [Mary Neff, nee Corliss]. They soon dashed out the brains of the baby against a tree, and tomahawked the captives as soon as they lagged by the way. Mrs Dustan and her companion were able to keep up with their captors for a hundred and fifty miles through the wilderness. They were claimed by an Indian family, which consisted of two stout men, three women and seven children. As they approached Penacook (now Concord), the Indians told the women that when they reached the Indian camp in that neighborhood they would be stripped, scourged and compelled to run the gauntlet. Driven to frenzy, these women resolved to escape at any cost. On the morning of April 30, a little before daybreak, Mrs Dustan roused her nurse and an English lad, helpd captive with them. They armed themselves with the hatchets of the Indians, and killed them where they lay. Only one squaw escaped sorely wounded, and a boy, whom they had spared intending to take with them, awoke and ran away. They took the scalps of ten, and brought them with them on their long and perilous homeward journey. A bounty of fifty pounds was voted them for this bloody deed, and the statue of Hannah Dustan stands to-day in the public square of the City of Haverhill. Six of the Indians who were killed and scalped in their wigwams were children, and Mrs. Dustan was the mother of a large family. Her deed of blood, to which she was driven by fear and a natural desire for revenge, reveals the fierce hatred of the English toward the Indians, and the bitterness of life in those years of anguish."
From "Historical Collections, Being a General Collection of Interesting Facts, Traditions, Biographical Sketches, Anecdotes, &c., Relating to the History and Antiquities of Every Town in Massachusetts, with Geographical Descriptions" by John Warner Barber, published 1839 by Dorr, Howland & Co. On the 15th of March, 1697, a body of Indians made a descent on the westerly part of the town, and approached the house of Mr. Thomas Dustin. They came, as they were wont, arrayed with all the terrors of a savage war dress, with their muskets charged for the contest, their tomahawks drawn for the slaughter, and their scalping knives unsheathed and glittering in the sunbeams. Mr. Dustin at this time was engaged abroad in his daily labor. When the terrific shouts of the blood-hounds first fell on his ear, he seized his gun, mounted his horse, and hastened to his house, with the hope of escorting to a place of safety his family, which consisted of his wife, whom he tenderly and passionately loved, and who had been confined only seven days in childbed, her nurse, Mrs. Mary Neff, and eight young children. Immediately upon his arrival, he rushed into his house, and found it a scene of confusion - the women trembling for their safety, and the children weeping and calling on their mother for protection. He instantly ordered seven of his children to fly in an opposite direction from that in which the danger was approaching, and went himself to assist his wife. But he was too late - before she could arise from her bed, the enemy were upon them.
Mr. Dustin, seeing there was no hope of saving his wife from the clutches of the foe, flew from the house, mounted his horse, and rode full speed after his flying children. The agonized father supposed it impossible to save them all, and he determined to snatch from death the child which shared the most of his affections. He soon came up with the infant brood; he heard their glad voices and saw the cheerful looks that overspread their countenances, for they felt themselves safe while under his protection. He looked for the child of his love - where was it? He scanned the little group from the oldest to the youngest, but he could not find it. They all fondly loved him - they called him by the endearing title of father, were flesh of his flesh, and stretched out their little arms toward him for protection. He gazed upon them, and faltered in his resolution, for there was none whom he could leave behind; and, indeed, what parent could, in such a situation, select the child which shared the most of his affections? He could not do it, and therefore resolved to defend them from the murderers, or die at their side.
A small party of the Indians pursued Mr. Dustin as he fled from the house, and soon overtook him and his flying children. They did not, however, approach very near, for they saw his determination, and feared the vengeance of a father, but skulked behind the trees and fences, and fired upon him and his little company. Mr. Dustin dismounted from his horse, placed himself in the rear of his children, and returned the fire of the enemy often and with good suceess. In this manner he retreated for more than a mile, alternately encouraging his terrified charge, and loading and fireing his gun, until he lodged them safely in a forsaken house. The Indians, finding that they could not conquer him, returned to their companions, expecting, no doubt, that they should there find victims, on which they might exercise their savage cruelty.
The party which entered the house when Mr. Dustin left it, found Mrs. Dustin in bed, and the nurse attempting to fly with the infant in her arms. They ordered Mrs. Dustin to rise instantly, while one of them took the infant from the arms of the nurse, carried it out, and dashed out its brains against an apple-tree. After plundering the house they set it on fire, and commenced their retreat, though Mrs. Dustin had but partly dressed herself, and was without a shoe on one of her feet. Mercy was a stranger to the breasts of the conquerors, and the unhappy women expected to receive no kindnesses from their hands. The weather at the time was exceedingly cold, the the March-wind blew keen and piercing, and the earth was alternately covered with snow and deep mud.
They travelled twelve miles the first day, and continued their retreat, day by day, following a circuitous route, until they reached the home of the Indian who claimed them as his property, which was on a small island, now called Dustin's Island, at the mouth of the Contoocook river, about six miles above the state-house in Concord, New Hampshire. Notwithstanding their intense suffering for the death of the child - their anxiety for those whom they had left behind, and who they expected had been cruelly butchered - their sufferings from cold and hunger, and from sleeping on the damp earth, with nothing but an inclement sky for a covering - and their terror for themselves, lest the arm that, as they supposed, had slaughtered those whom they dearly loved, would soon be made red with their blood, - notwithstanding all this, they performed the journey without yielding, and arrived at their destination in comparative health.
The family of their Indian master consisted of two men, three women, and seven children; besides an English boy, named Samuel Lennardson, who was taken prisoner about a year previous, at Worcester. Their master, some years before, had lived in the family of Rev. Mr. Rowlandson, of Lancaster, and he told Mrs. Dustin that "when he prayed the English way he thought it was good, but now he found the French way better."
These unfortunate women had been but a few days with the Indians, when they were informed that they must soon start for a distant Indian settlement, and that, upon their arrival, they would be obliged to conform to the regulations always required of prisoners, whenever they entered the village, which was to be stripped, scourged, and run the gauntlet in a state of nudity. The gauntlet consisted of two files of Indians, of both sexes and of all ages, containing all that could be mustered in the village; and the unhappy prisoners were obliged to run between them, when they were scoffed at and beaten by each one as they passed, and were sometimes marks at which the younger Indians threw their hatchets. This cruel custom was often practised by many of the tribes, and not unfrequently the poor prisoner sunk beneath it. Soon as the two women were informed of this, they determined to escape as speedily as possible. They could not bear to be exposed to the scoffs and unrestrained gaze of their savage conquerors - death would be preferable. Mrs. Dustin soon planned a mode of escape, appointed the 31st inst. for its accomplishment, and prevailed upon her nurse and the boy to join her. The Indians kept no watch, for the boy had lived with them so long they considered him as one of their children, and they did not expect that the women, unadvised and unaided, would attempt to escape, when success, at the best, appeared so desperate.
On the day previous to the 31st, Mrs. Dustin wished to learn on what part of the body the Indians struck their victims when they would despatch them suddenly, and how they took off a scalp. With this view she instructed the boy to make inquiries of one of the men. Accordingly, at a convenient opportunity, he asked one of them where he would strike a man if he would kill him instantly, and how to take off a scalp. The man laid his finger on his temple - "Strike 'em there," said he; and then instructed him how to scalp. The boy then communicated his information to Mrs. Dustin. The night at length arrived, and the whole family retired to rest, little suspecting that the most of them would never behold another sun. Long before the break of day, Mrs. Dustin arose, and, having ascertained that they were all in a deep sleep, awoke her nurse and the boy, when they armed themselves with tomahawks, and despatched ten of the twelve. A favorite boy they designedly left; and one of the squaws, whom they left for dead, jumped up, and ran with him into the woods. Mrs. Dustin killed her master, and Samuel Lennardson despatched the very Indian who told him where to strike, and how to take off a scalp. The deed was accomplished before the day bagan to break, and, after securing what little provision the wigwam of their dead master afforded, they scuttled all the boats but one, to prevent pursuit, and with that started for their homes. Mrs. Dustin took with her a gun that belonged to her master, and the tomahawk with which she committed the tragical deed. They had not proceeded far, however, when Mrs. Dustin perceived that they had neglected to take their scalps, and feared that her neighbors, if they ever arrived at their homes, would not credit their story, and would ask them for some token or proof. She told her fears to her companions, and they immediately returned to the silent wigwam, took off the scalps of the fallen, and put them into a bag. They then started on their journey anew, with the gun, tomahawk, and the bleeding trophies, - palpable witnesses of their heroic and unparalleled deed.
A long and weary journey was before them, but they commenced it with cheerful hearts, each alternately rowing and steering their little bark. Though they had escaped from the clutches of their unfeeling master, still they were surrounded with dangers. They were thinly clad, the sky was still inclement, and they were liable to be re-captured by strolling bands of Indians, or by those who would undoubtedly pursue them so soon as the squaw and the boy had reported their departure, and the terrible vengeance they had taken; and were they again made prisoners, they well knew that a speedy death would follow. This array of danger, however, did not appall them for home was their beacon-light, and the thoughts of their firesides nerved their hearts. They continued to drop silently down the river, keeping a good lookout for strolling Indians; and in the night two of them only slept, while the third managed the boat. In this manner they pursued their journey, until they arrived safely, with their trophies, at their homes, totally unexpected by their mourning friends, who supposed that they had been butchered by their ruthless conquerors. It must truly have been an affecting meeting for Mrs. Dustin, who likewise supposed that all she loved, - all she held dear on earth - was laid in the silent tomb.
After recovering from the fatigue of the journey, they started for Boston, where they arrived on the 21st of April. They carried with them the gun and tomahawk, and their ten scalps - those witnesses that would not lie; and while there, the general court gave them fifty pounds, as a reward for their heroism. The report of their daring deed soon spread into every part of the country, and when Colonel Nicholson, governor of Maryland, heard of it, he sent them a very valuable present, and many presents were also made to them by their neighbors.
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History Cotton Mather History in 1700.10
MAGNALIA CHRISTI AMERICANA;
or
THE ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY OF NEW-ENGLAND
by Cotton Mather (1663-1728)
“Now Reproduced from the Edition of 1852
and Published in 1967 by Russell & Russell
A Division of Atheneum House, Inc.”
From: Volume 2, Article XXV, pages 634-636
On March 15, 1697, the salvages made a descent upon the skirts of Haverhill, murdering and captivating about thirty-nine persons, and burning about half a dozen houses. In this broil, one Hannah Dustan, having lain in about a week, attended with her nurse, Mary Neff, a body of terrible Indians drew near unto the house where she lay, with designs to carry on their bloody devastations. Her husband hastened from his employments abroad unto the relief of his distressed family; and first bidding seven of his eight children (which were from two to seventeen years of age) to get away as fast as they could unto some garrison in the town, he went in to inform his wife of the horrible distress come upon them. Ere she could get up, the fierce Indians were got so near, that, utterly desparing to do her any service, he ran out after his children; resolving that on the horse which he had with him, he would ride away with that which he should in this extremity find his affections to pitch most upon, and leave the rest unto the care of the Divine Providence. He overtook his children, about forty rod from his door; but then such was the agony of his parental affections, that he found it impossible for him to distinguish any one of them from the rest; wherefore he took up a courageous resolution to live and die with them all. A party of Indians came up with him; and now, though they fired at him, and he fired at them, yet he manfully kept at the reer of his little army of unarmed children, while they marched off with the pace of a child of five years old; until, by the singular providence of God, he arrived safe with them all unto a place of safety about a mile or two from his house. But his house must in the mean time have more dismal tragedies acted at it. The nurse, trying to escape with the new-born infant, fell into the hands of the formidable salvages; and those furious tawnies coming into the house, bid poor Dustan to rise immediately. Full of astonishment, she did so; and sitting down in the chimney with an heart full of most fearful expectation, she saw the raging dragons rifle all that they could carry away, and set the house on fire. About nineteen or twenty Indians now led these away, with about half a score other English captives; but ere they had gone many steps, they dash'd out the brains of the infant against a tree; and several of the other captives, as they began to tire in the sad journey, were soon sent unto their long home; the salvages would presently bury their hatchets in their brains, and leave their carcases on the ground for birds and beasts to feed upon. However, Dustan (with her nurse) notwithstanding her present condition, travelled that night about a dozen miles, and then kept up with their new masters in a long travel of an hundred and fifty miles, more or less, within a few days ensuing, without any sensible damage in their health, from the hardships of their travel, their lodging, their diet, and their many other difficulties.
These two poor women were now in the hands of those whose "tender mercies are cruelties;" but the good God, who hath all "hearts in his own hands," heard the sighs of these prisoners, and gave them to find unexpected favour from the master who hath laid claim unto them. That Indian family consisted of twelve persons; two stout men, three women, and seven children; and for the shame of many an English family, that has the character of prayerless upon it, I must now publish what these poor women assure me. 'Tis this: in obedience to the instructions which the French have given them, they would have prayers in their family no less than thrice every day; in the morning, at noon, and in the evening; nor would they ordinarily let their children eat or sleep, without first saying their prayers. Indeed, these idolaters were, like the rest of their whiter brethren, persecutors, and would not endure that these poor women should retire to their English prayers, if they could hinder them. Nevertheless, the poor women had nothing but fervent prayers to make their lives comfortable or tolerable; and by being daily sent out upon business, they had opportunities, together and asunder, to do like another Hannah, in "pouring out their souls before the Lord." Nor did their praying friends among our selves forbear to "pour out" supplications for them. Now, they could not observe it without some wonder, that their Indian master sometimes when he saw them dejected, would say unto them, "What need you trouble your self? If your God will have you delivered, you shall be so!" And it seems our God would have it so to be. This Indian family was now travelling with these two captive women, (and an English youth taken from Worcester, a year and a half before,) unto a rendezvous of salvages, which they call a town, some where beyond Penacook; and they still told these poor women that when they came to this town, they must be stript, and scourg'd, and run the gantlet through the whole army of Indians. They said this was the fashion when the captives first came to a town; and they derided some of the faint-hearted English, which, they said, fainted and swooned away under the torments of this discipline. But on April 30, while they were yet, it may be, about an hundred and fifty miles from the Indian town, a little before break of day, when the whole crew was in a dead sleep, (reader, see if it prove not so!) one of these women took up a resolution to imitate the action of Gael upon Siberia; and being where she had not her own life secured by any law unto her, she thought she was not forbidden by any law to take away the life of the murderers by whom her child had been butchered. She heartened the nurse and the youth to assist her in this enterprize; and all furnishing themselves with hatchets for the purpose, they struck such home blows upon the heads of their sleeping oppressors, that ere they could any of them struggle into any effectual resistance, "at the feet of these poor prisoners, they bow'd, they fell, they lay down; at their feet they bow'd, they fell; where they bow'd, there they fell down dead." Only one squaw escaped, sorely wounded, from them in the dark; and one boy, whom they reserved asleep, intending to bring him away with them, suddenly waked, and scuttled away from this desolation. But cutting off the scalps of the ten wretches, they came off, and received fifty pounds from the General Assembly of the province, as a recompence of their action; besides which, they received many "presents of congratulation" from their more private friends: but none gave 'em a greater taste of bounty than Colonel Nicholson, The Governour of Maryland, who, hearing of their action, sent 'em a very generous token of his favour.
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She is recounted in the following anecdote entered. The Story of Hannah Duston
Published by the Duston-Dustin Family Association, H. D. Kilgore Historian
Haverhill Tercentenary - June, 1940
On March 14, 1697, Thomas and Hannah Duston lived in a house on the west side of the Sawmill River in the town of Haverhill. This house was located near the great Duston Boulder and on the opposite side of Monument Street.
Their twenty years of married life had brought them material prosperity, and of the twelve children who had been born to them during this period, eight were living. Thomas, who was quite a remarkable man, - a bricklayer and farmer, who, according to tradition, even wrote his own almanacs, and wrote them on rainy days, - was beginning to have time to devote to town affairs, and had just completed a term as Constable for the "west end" of the town of Haverhill.
He was at this time engaged in the construction with bricks from his own brickyard of a new brick house about a half mile to the northwest of his home to provide for the needs of his still growing family, for Baby Martha had just made her appearance on March 9.
Under the care of Mrs. Mary Neff, both mother and child were doing well, the rest of the family were in good health, his material affairs were prospering, and it was undoubtedly with a rather contented feeling that Thomas, to say nothing of his family, retired to rest on the eve of that fateful March 15, 1697, little knowing what horrors the morrow was to bring.
Of course, there was always the fear of Indians. However, since the capture in August of the preceding year, of Jonathan Haynes and his four children while picking peas in a field at Bradley's Mills, near Haverhill, nothing had happened, and apprehensions of any further attacks were gradually being lulled. Besides, less than a mile on Pecker's Hill, was the garrison of Onesiphorus Marsh, one of six established by the town containing a small body of soldiers. It was believed that there was little ground for uneasiness.
But this was only a false security. Count Frontenac, the Colonial Governor of Canada, was using every means at his disposal to incite the Indians against the English as part of his campaign to win the New World for the French King. The latter, due to the need for troops in Europe, where the war known as King William's War was going on, was unable to send many to help Frontenac. So, with propaganda and gifts, the French Governor had allied the tribes to the French cause and bounties had been set on English scalps and prisoners. Every roving band of Indians was determined to get its share of these, and even now, such a band was in the woods near Haverhill, preparing for a lightning raid on the town with the first light of dawn. The squaws and children were left in the forest to guard their possessions, while the savage warriors moved stealthily towards the house of Thomas and Hannah Duston, the first attacked.
Thomas, like all good farmers, had risen and was at work near the house, attending to the morning chores, when he suddenly spied the approaching Indians. Instantly seizing his gun, he mounted his horse and raced for the house, shouting a warning which started the children toward the garrison, while he dashed into the house hoping to save his wife and baby. Quickly realizing that this was impossible, and urged by Hannah, he rode after the children, resolving to escape with at least one.
On overtaking them, and finding it impossible to choose between them, he determined, if possible, to save them all. A few of the Indians had pursued the little band of fugitives, firing at them from behind treees and boulders, but Thomas, dismounting, and guarding the rear from behind his horse, held back the savages by threatening to shoot whenever one of them exposed himself. Had he discharged his gun, they would have closed on him at once, for reloading took considerable time. He was successful in his attempt, and all reached the garrison safely, the older children hurrying the younger along, probably carrying them at times. This was probably the garrison of Onesiphorus Marsh on Pecker's Hill.
Meanwhile, a fearful scene was being enacted in the home. Mrs. Neff, trying to escape with the baby, was easily captured. Invading the house, the savages forced Hannah to rise and dress herself. Sitting despairingly in the chimney, she watched them rifle the house of all they could carry away, and was then dragged outside while they fired the house, in her haste forgetting one shoe. A few of the Indians then dragged Hannah and Mrs. Neff, who carried the baby, towards the woods, while the rest of the band, rejoined by those who had been in the village, killing twenty-seven and capturing thirteen of the inhabitants.
Finding that carrying the baby was making it hard for Mrs. Neff to keep up, one of the Indians siezed from her, and before its mother's horrified eyes dashed out its brains against an apple tree. The Indians, forcing the two women to their utmost pace, at last reached the woods and joined the squaws and children who had been left behind the night before. Here they were soon after joined by the rest of the redskins with their plunder and other captives.
Fearing a prompt pursuit, the Indians immediately set out for Canada with their booty. Some of the weaker captives were callously knocked on the head and scalped, but in spite of her condition, poorly clad, and partly shod, Hannah, doubtless assisted by Mrs. Neff, managed to keep up, and by her own account marched that day "about a dozen miles", truly a remarkable feat. During the next few days they traveled about a hundred miles through the unbroken wilderness, over rough trails, in places still covered with the winter's snow, sometimes deep with mud, and across icy brooks, while rocks tore their have shod feet and their poorly clad bodies suffered from the cold - a terrible journey.
Near the junction of the Contoocook and Merrimack rivers, twelve of the Indians, two men, three women, and seven children, taking with them Hannah, Mrs. Neff and a boy of fourteen years, Samuel Lennardson (who had been taken prisoner near Worcester about eighteen months before), left the main party and proceeded toward what is now Dustin Island, situated where the two rivers unite, near the present town of Penacook, N.H. This island was the home of the Indian who claimed the women as his captives, and here it was planned to rest for a while before continuing on the long journey to Canada.
This Indian family, stange as it may seem, had been converted by the French priests at some time in the past, and was accustomed to have prayers three times a day - in the morning, at noon, and at eveing - and ordinarily would not let their children eat or sleep without first saying their prayers. Hannah's master, who had lived in the family of Rev. Mr. Rowlandson of Lancaster some years before, told her that "when he prayed the English way he thought that it was good, but now he found the French way better." They tried however, to prevent the two women from praying, but without success, for as they were engaged on the tasks set by their master, they often found opportunities. Their Indian master would sometimes say to them when he saw them dejected. "What need you trouble yourself? If your God will have you delivered, you shall be so!"
During the long journey Hannah was secretly planning to escape at the first opportunity, spurred on by the tales with which the Indians had entertained the captives on the march, picturing how they would be treated after arriving in Canada, stripped and made to "run the gauntlet;" jeered at and beaten and made targets for the young Indians' tomahawks; how many of the English prisoners had fainted under these tortures; and how they were often sold as slaves to the French. These stories, added to her desire for revenging the death of her baby and the cruel treatment of their captors while on the march, made this desire stronger. When she learned where they were going, a plan took definite shape in her mind, and was secretly communicated to Mrs. Neff and Samuel Lennardson.
Samuel, who was growing tired of living with the Indians, and in whom a longing for home had been stirred by the presence of the two women, the next day casually asked his master, Bampico, how he had killed the English. "Strike 'em dere," said Bampico, touching his temple, and then proceeded to show the boy how to take a scalp. This information was communicated to the women, and they quickly agreed on the details of the plan. They arrived at the island some time before March 30, 1697.
After reaching the island, the Indians grew careless. The river was in flood. Samuel was considered one of the family, and the two women were considered too worn out to attempt escape, so no watch was set that night and the Indians slept soundly. Hannah had decided that the time had come.
Shortly after midnight she woke Mrs. Neff and Samuel. Each, armed with a tomahawk, crept silently to a position near the heads of the the sleeping Indians - Samuel near Bampico and Hannah near her master. At a signal for Hannah the tomahawks fell, and so swiftly and surely did they perform their work of destruction that ten of the twelve Indians were killed outright, only town - a severly wounded squaw and a boy whom they had intended to take captive - escaping into the woods. According to a deposition of Hannah Bradley in 1739 (History of Haverhill, Chase pp.308-309), "above penny cook the Deponent was forced to travel farther than the rest of the captives, and the next night but one there came to use one Squaw who said that Hannah Dustan and the aforesaid Mary Neff assisted in killing the Indians of her wigwam except herself and a boy, herself escaping very narrowly, shewing to myself & others seven wounds as she said with a Hatched on her head which wounds were given her when the rest were killed."
Hastily piling food and weapons into a canoe, including the gun of Hannah's late master and the tomahawk with which she had killed him, they scuttled the rest of the canoes and set out down the Merrimack River. Suddenly realizing that without proof their story would seem incredible, Hannah ordered a return to the island, where they scalped their victims, wrapping the trophies in cloth which had been cut from Hannah's loom at the time of the capture, and again set out down the river each taking a turn at guiding the frail craft while the others slept.
Thus, traveling by night and hiding by day, they finally reached the home of John Lovewell in old Dunstable, now a part of Nashua, N.H. Here they spent the night, and a monument was erected here in 1902, commemorating the event. The following morning the journey was resumed and the weary voyagers at last beached their canoe at Bradley's Cove, where Creek Brook flows into the Merrimack. Continuing their journey on foot, they at last reached Haverhill in safety. Their reunion with loved ones who had given them up for lost can better be imagined than described. Doubtless Samuel was the hero of the younger generation for many days.
Thomas took his wife and the others to the new house which he had been building at the time of the massacre, and which was now completed. Here for some days they rested.
In 1694 a bounty of fifty pounds had been placed on Indian scalps, reduced to twenty-five pounds in 1695, and revoked completely on Dec. 16, 1696. Thomas Duston believed that the act of the two women and the boy had been of great valuein destroying enemies of the colony, who had been murdering innocent women and children, and decided that the bounty should be claimed. So he took the two women and the boy to Boston, where they arrived with the trophies on April 21, 1697. Here he filed a petition to the Governor and Council, which was read on June 8, 1697 in the House (Mass. Archives, Vol. 70, p. 350), setting forth the above belief and claiming the reward, pleading that "the merit of the Action remains the same" and claiming that "your Petitioner haveing Lost his Estate in that Calamity wherein his wife was carryed into her captivity redrs him the fitter object for what consideracon the publick Bounty shall judge proper for what hath been herein done," etc.
The same day the General Court voted payment of a bounty of twenty-five pounds "unto Thomas Dunston of Haverhill, on behalf of Hannah his wife," and twelve pounds ten shillings each to Mary Neff and Samuel. This was approved on June 16, 1697, and the order in Council for the payment of the several allowances was passed Dec. 4, 1697. (Chapter 10, Province laws, Mass. Archives.)
While in Boston Hannah told her story to Rev. Cotton Mather, whose morbid mind was stirred to its depths. He perceived her escape in the nature of a miracle, and his description of it in his "Magnalia Christi Americana" is extraordinary, though in the facts doubtless quite correct and corroborated by the evidence.
In Samuel Sewall's Diary, Volume 1, pages 452 and 453, we find the following entry on May 12, 1697:
"Fourth-day, May 12 . . . . Hannah Dustan came to see us; . . . She said her master, whom she kill'd did formerly live with Mr. Roulandson at Lancaster: He told her, that when he pray'd the English way, he thought that was good: but now he found the French way was better. The single man shewed the night before, to Saml Lenarson, how he used to knock Englishmen on the head and take off their Scalps; little thinking that the Captives would make some of their first experiment upon himself. Sam. Lenarson kill'd him."
This remarkable exploit of Hannah Duston, Mary Neff, and Samuel Lennardson was received with amazement throughout the colonies, and Governor Sir Francis Nicholson of Maryland, after reading Cotton Mather's account of her escape, had a silver tankard, suitably inscribed, made in London, and later presented it to Hannah Duston. Monuments have been erected on the island (1874) and in G. A. R. Park, Haverhill (1861), commemorating the exploit, and an enormous boulder marks the site of the house on Monument Street, Haverhill, where she died.
The first monument, commemorating the fame of a woman, to be erected in the United States was one to Hannah Duston on June 1, 1861, in Haverhill.
Samuel Lennardson, on his return to Worcester, found that his father had removed to Preston, Conn., and there he grew to manhood, married Lydia -----, and died May 11, 1718, leaving three sons and two daughters.
Little is known of Hannah's life or that of Mary Neff after this event.
And now, let us return to Thomas Duston after his escape with the children. The fear induced by the massacre caused Haverhill to at once establish several new harrison houses. One of these was the brick house which Thomas was building for his family at the time of the massacre. This was ordered completed, and though the clay pits were not far from the home, a guard of soldiers was placed over those who brought clay to the house. The order establishing Thomas Duston's house as a garrison was dated April 5, 1697. He was appointed master of the garrison and assigned Josiah Heath, Sen., Josiah Heath Jun., Josep Bradley, John Heath, Joseph Kingsbury, and Thomas Kingsbury as a guard.
It was about this time that Hannah returned home. After the return from Boston, Thomas remembered that while constable the preceding year he had advanced the sum of ten pounds, fourteen shillings, and eight pence to Col. Nathaniel Saltonstall for money due several men as soldiers under the latter for service in 1695, and received an order from the Province Treasurer as security, which order was destroyed in the fire. As his request, Colonel Saltonstall wrote to the Province Treasurer on May 31, 1697, acknowledging receipt of the money in return for the order which was burned in Thomas's house the preceding March, and the order for payment of this sum to Thomas Dustonwas approved by the Council on Jone 4, 1697. (Mass. Archives.)
The details of an adventure of such an extraordinary character as that just described soon became public property, but little is known of Hannah's life after she settled down again to her accustomed round of household duties on her return home.
In fact, except for the record of the birth of her thirteenth child, Lydia, on October 4 1698, and the knowledge that she died early in 1736, -her will being proven in Ipswich on March 10 of that year and recorded in Salem Registry of Essex Probate, -nothing further was known until 1929, some two hundred and thitry-two years after her escape from captivity.
But in March, 1929, behind an old gallery pew in the Haverhill Center Congregational Church, the sexton, Marchus C. Jean, found several papers over two hundred years old. Among these was a letter from Hannah Duston to the elders of the church, applying for admission to the membership of the church. This letter is so unusual in character that it is presented here in full, as follows:
I Desire to be Thankful that I was born in a Land of Light & Baptized when I was Young : and had a Good Education by My Father, Tho I took but little Notice of it in the time of it :--I am Thankful for my Captivity, twas the Comfortablest time that ever I had; In my Affliction God made his Word Comfortable to me. I remembred 43d ps. ult-and those words came to my mind--ps. 118.17. ... I ave had a great Desire to come to the Ordinance of the Lords Supper a Great while but Unworthiness has kept me aback; reading a Book concerning +s Suffering Did much awaken me. In the 55th of Isa. Beg. We are invited to come:-- Hearing Mr. Moody preach out of ye 3rd of Mal. 3 last verses it put me upon Consideration. Ye 11th of Matthew has been Encouraging to me-- I have been resolving to offer me Self from time to time ever since the Settlement of the present Ministry: I was awakened by first Sacram'l Sermon (Luke 14.17) But Delays and fears prevailed upon me:-- But I desire to Delay no longer, being Sensible it is My Duty--. I desire the Church to receive me tho' it be at the Eleventh hour; & pray for me--that I may hon'r God and obtain the Salvation of my Soul.
Hannah Duston wife of Thomas AEtat 67.
And so ends the story of the escape from captivity of one of America's greatest heroines, Hannah Duston.
H. D. Kilgore, Historian
Duston-Dustin Family Association
adapted for web use by jdustin@usm.maine.edu