[The following story is typical of the tens of thousands of white men, women, and children who were attacked, captured, tortured, and killed by Indians during the the time of Columbus to the early 1800s.]
The frontier seetlements suffered very heavily while King William's war was in progress. It is not worth while to relate all the incidents that occurred; but there is one so strange that it must not be omitted, though it will be found hard to believe the amazing story. One day in March, 1697, Thomas Dustin was working in his field near Haverhill, within thirty miles of Boston, when he saw a war-party of Indians approaching from the woods.
Like most of the settlers, Dustin made it a practice to carry his rifle with him at all times, whether in going to church or while at work. The instant he discovered the Red-Men he caught up his gun, unfastened his horse, and rode at full speed for the house, where were his wife, nurse, and eight children, the youngest of whom was only a few days old. He directed all the older children to leave at once and run in the opposiste direction from the Indians.
They scrambled out as quickly as they could, and he then leaned over the bed to lift out his wife and babe. "No," said his wife, gently pushing him away, "I am unable to go with you. Leave me, and save the children."
It was a fearful moment, but the distracted father had no choice. He sprang upon his horse again, and quickly overtook the little ones. The Indians were close at hand, and he levelled his gun at them. They shrank back, but he did not fire. He knew that if he discharged the weapon they would rush forward before he could reload and no doubt kill them. By threatening them in this manner, he kept them at a distance until an empty house was reached, when they turned away, and left him and his sorely affrighted children.
Meanwhile, the Indians had rushed into the home of Mr. Dustin, where they saw the nurse about to fly with the infant, while the mother lay in bed resignedly awaiting her fate. The savages ordered her to rise, and, moved by her terror, she now did that which until then she did no believe herself capable of doing; she arose and prepared to go with them as their prisoner. Before she was dressed her babe was taken from her and slain, the plundered house was set on fire, and she was compelled to accompany her cruel captors.
It was March, and the weather was chilly and damp. The bereaved mother was forced to walk a dozen miles a day, without shoes upon her feet,and to lie down in the woods at night, with no covering except the scant garments she wore. This distressing condition continued day after day, until they reached a small island in the Merrimac River, six miles above Concore, N.H., which since that time has borne the name of Dustin Island.
At this place lived the chief, who claimed the two female prisoners as his property. His family consisted of two men, three women, seven children, and a white boy who had been a captive for a number of months.
Mrs. Dustin and the nurse were treated fairly well for several days, when they were told that they and the boy were to be taken to a distant village, where they would have "to run the gauntlet." In this terrifying ordeal, the prisoner is deprived of nearly all his clothing, and compeled to pass between two rows of Indidans, each provided with a club, knife, hatchet, or other weapon, with which he delivers such blows as he can, while the captive is within reach.
The conditions generally are that if he can fight his way to the end of the rows of tormentors his life is spared. Instances are known of a prisoner's survival, but the tormentors very rarely permit such a conclusion of a prisoner is too exquisiste an enjoyment for them to let it slip when it is once within their grasp.
When Mrs. Dustin and her companion learned of the decision of their captors they resolved to die before submitting to it. They formed a plan of escape and made a confidant of the boy, who promised to give all the help he could. He was asked to learn from one of the warriors how to kill a human being with a single blow, and how to take his scalp. The boy gained this information without exciting the suspicion of his captors, and then arefully explained the method to the two women.
While it was yet dark on the following morning, Mrs. Dustin silently awakened the nurse and lad, and all three secured tomahawks without arousing their captors. Then quickly and surely were the blows dealt until it was certain that ten of the sleepers would never awake again. A squaw opened her eyes before they reached her, and springing to her feet, with her babe clasped to her breast, she dashed off to the woods, and escaped the fate of her companions.
With a wonderful coolness the white captives secured some provisions from the lodge, and made their way to the riverside, where lay a number of canoes. All were scuttled save one. Before embarking in this, Mrs. Dustin, recalling the manner in which the Indians had slain her infant and maltreated her, led her companions back to the lodge, where their ten victims were deprived of their scaplps. Then the three entered the single canoe, and, in continual peril, floated down the Merrimac to their homes, where their arrival occasioned as much amazement as if they had risen from the dead.
The happiness of Mrs. Dustin was complete, when she found her husband and the remainder of the children unharmed. Her story, becoming known, awoke a profound interest throughout the colonies. Had she not brought away the ghastly trophies, in the shape of ten scalps, it is not likely that one person in a hundred would have believed her statement, though backed by the nurse and little boy. The Genenral Court of Massachusetts presented the three with fifty pounds as a reward for their heroism while other sent them valuable testimonials. In 1874, the citizens of New York and New Hampshire erected a fine monument on Dustin Island commemorattive of what is certainly one of the most heroic incidents in colonial history.
The inscription perpetuates the names of Hannah Dustin, Mary Neff, and Samuel Leonardson.
A treaty of peace between England and France, which lasted for the next five years, was signed in 1697, at Ryswick, Holland, and King Williams's war came to a close.
(source: Library of American History by Edward S. Ellis, A.M. of Princeton University, copyright 1904, pages 217-220)