How the Women Held the Fort.

Waipawa Mail, Volume XIII, Issue 2451, 24 May 1890, Page 1

How the Women Held the Fort.

The autumn of 1690 in New Bugland was unusually severe. It was keenly felt by a little band of colonists in Massachusetts, who thought it boded ill for the coming winter. The crops had been meagre, and as a result provisions were scarce. To add to the general discomfort there came every few weeks rumours of fresh troubles with the Indian tribes, and old settlers croaked of sudden surprises and midnight massacres by the savage and remorseless red men. At length these rumours were terribly confirmed. Late one afternoon a messenger with a white face and covered with the dust of travel arrived, bringing the ghastly intelligence that a neighbouring settlement not more than 50 miles off had been attacked by a baud of hostile Indians, its men killed, and its women and children led away into captivity. The dire intelligence threw the colonists into great consternation. A meeting was at once held to decide on the best mode of defence in case the Indians should attack them. After some debate it was agreed that all the settlement should more into the fort on the top of the hill until all danger of the attack should pass over. This fort was a large rectangular building made of logs, with loopholes in the sides to enable those within to use their guns on an opposing force. There were two doors in the building —a large one in the front and a smaller one in the rear, both capable os being securely barred. The day had opened fine, but at noon the clouds began to gather, and it looked as if rain or snow might fall. The men of the settlement had, as usual, left for their daily work in the fields, leaving behind two of their number to look after the women and children. As an additional precaution an old brass cannon was kept loaded, and this, at the first alarm, was to be fired by the inmates of the fort. Old Uncle Dan’l (that was what the colonists called Daniel Goodwin) had the cannon in charge. There were ten women in the fort, whose ages varied from seventy to sixteen ; from Grandmother Bickford to sweet Patience Preston, who had but just completed her sixteenth year, but who already was regarded as a woman. In the hard life of the colonists there was not much time for girlhood. None of the inmates of the fort were idle that autumn afternoon. Some were preparing the evening meal, some minding the children, while others again were industriously plying the spindle. At length Patience arose with a little sigh of relief, and, placing the work with which she had been busy on a chair, went out, first putting on a warm woollen jacket and tying on a demure little Puritan hood. Traversing the courtyard, where the boys of the settlement were having a mimic war, one side representing England, the other Prance, she passed through the stockade gate and out into the country. But she did not go far. Some subtle, indefinable sense of danger seemed to delay her footsteps and render her suddenly tired. Before re-entering the stockade she sat down on a log and gazed dreamily at the distant woods. Her face, pure and sweet, yet held a suggestion of sternness that needed only the coming years to develop. It was the same with the other women in the fort. In some strange way the characteristics of the land, its hardness, its coldness, its firmness, had entered into the character of its sons and daughters, and stamped its impress on their faces. Life was so hard ! As the children of the Lord in the old days, they were beset on all sides with enemies ; by the wars and factions of neighbouring colonists; by terrible, far-reaching woods, desolate, bleak, and mysterious, holding in their dark bosoms the remorseless and blood-thirsty Indians fiends who would dash out a baby’s brains or impale it alive before its mother’s eyes. Slowly the light faded. The sun, red and angry, was setting. Darker and darker grew the woods. And yet, was it fancy ? Patience hastily arose, rubbed her eyes, and gazed long and earnestly at the forest. Then her face wentsuddenly white ; she tottered and almost fell; but, recovering herself, she ran as if her life depended on it to the stockade. Flying to where the boys were playing, she gasped out one word—- “ Indians!" The boys, with blanched faces, crowded around her. “ Fire the cannon !” she cried to the one that was nearest to her. Then, feeling as if some leaden weights were on her feet, she staggered to the fort. Standing on the threshold, she managed to stammer out, “ The Indians are coming ! Lock the doors !” The dreaded danger then had come. For a few seconds no one spoke, terror seemingly having paralysed all effort. But the silence was at last broken by convulsive sobbing, mingled with the shrill cries of the younger children, who instinctively felt that danger was at hand. Then the suden roar of the cannon outside awoke the echoes; the boys had done their duty. As in every case of sudden danger some one unconsciously will be chosen leader, so now the affrighted inmates of the fort found their leader in Abigail Perkins. Tall, thin, with a face that well became one who had

left merry England for “ conscience sake,*’ she arose and, with a voice whose natural harshness was increased by the thought of the impending ruin, spoke: “ Call the boys in. Some of you barricade the doors ; every one that can fire a musket take one and load it.” Her words fell like whips on the terror-stricken minds of her hearers, rousing them at once to action. Again the cannon roared forth its appeal to the men in the distant fields. Soon afterwards the boys came running in with the news that the Indians were not more than a quarter of a mile away ; but they need not have told it, for hardly had the larger door been barricaded than that most dreadful of all cries to the early settlers, the Indian war-whoop, was heard. Several of the faces grew whiter, and one woman fell fainting to the floor ; but again the voice of Abigail Perkins rang out, bidding them not to give up hope, that the men would surely be back before long. Of the two men whom the colonists bad left that day behind, neither was capable of doing much for the fort’s defence —Uncle Dan’l, whose advancing years compelled him to give up working in the fields, and Jeremiah Smith, who was lying ill of a fever. Yet no sooner were the words of Abigail Perkins heard than both men seemed endowed with new life. Throwing aside the stick he was wont to walk with, Uncle Dan’l seized a rifle and stood, his eyes blazing with an old time light, at one of the loopholes. His ailing companion followed his example. Nearer and nearer came the bloodcurdling yell. The human tigers were now at tho stockade. Painted faces appeared here and there above the fence. At last the outer gate fell, and the Indians poured in and swooped like a hawk on its prey down upon the fort. There must have been fifty of them, while within the fort there were only twenty all told, including men, women, and children. Crack ! crack ! crack ! rang out from as many different guns, and two of the invaders fell. But this in no wise stopped the onslaught, and soon the fort was surrounded by howling, bloodthirsty demons. Again and again the sharp report of the rifle was hoard. Every moment the din grew more terrific. The large door now began to show signs of giving way. But there was no sign of giving up on the pale, rigid faces of the defenders. Woman to woman they stood, ready to sell their lives dearly. In the excitement consequent on the sudden attack the small door in the rear had temporarily been forgotten. It had been fastened, but not as securely as it might have been. Patience, with the children gathered around her, stood near it, trying to calm them. They sorely needed comforting, for the noises outside made one’s flesh creep. Had not the girl’s ears been dulled by the clamour all around her she would have heard a stealthy scratching at the bottom of the small door. Presently it grew louder, then there was a sudden wrenching noise, and lo! from the foot of the door, as it were, the head of a savage appeared. One of the children was the first to see it, and with a scream she rushed to Patience, who at that moment turned and also saw the Indian. There was no time to call for help ; the invader was already half in. Seizing an axe, Patience rushed forward, but just as she was about to strike a sudden faintness came over her ; the next moment she was aware that the axe was torn from her hand, and oh, horror ! The head of the savage lay at her feet! Turning, she saw it was Abigail Perkins who had dealt the blow. There she stood, with axe in hand, ready to defend again her children should occasion demand it. There now ensued a short silence, and a sudden hope came to the hearts of the besieged that their enemies were leaving. But it was of short, duration. Again the war - whoo p sounded, and now, what the colonists most dreaded, a strong smell of smoke. “ Will our men never come ?” thought Patience, as she ’heard the flames beginning to snap and crackle outside the larger door. The smoke became so dense that it was impossible to distinguish objects a few feet away. Then the large 'door fell with a crash, and in rushed, no maddened red-sksns, but the men of the settlement.. Tes, relief had come, hut it was only in the nick of time. The colonists as they entered seized the first persons they came across and carried them into the open air. Then followed a hurried count, so as to make so fW no one was missing. 1> ev J one was there and almn- immed f atel afterwards the roe' f „ . bu ; its mass of cm , , ’ • j ~ ■ .eers and burning wood Th^ ma ' -‘ 8 headless Indians. _ l3 ended the attack on the fort, and the record of its brave defence was handed down as an example of what women can do when called upon to defend those whom they love.