Captivity of Mrs. Coleman
During the perilous times of the French and Indian war the settlements east of the Shawangunk were not exempt from visits of scalping parties of Indian hostiles. It was at this stormy period that two brothers by the name of Coleman occupied a double log house with their families a short distance south-east of the present village of Burlingham.
On a Sabbath afternoon one of the brothers went into the woods to search for a span of horses that had strayed from home. While there he was surprised by a war-party of Indians lying in ambush, and was shot and scalped. The savages then proceeded to the house, where the other brother was sick, and confined to his bed. There was a crevice between the logs next the bed on which the sick man lay, through which the Indians could insert the muzzles of their guns. The first intimation of danger the family had, was the startling report of fire-arms, the belching flames of gunpowder from the walls of their cabin and the piercing death-shriek of the brother as the fatal bullet penetrated his brain. The next moment the painted demons burst into the house, dragged the corpse from the bed to the door and tore away the scalp with savage exultation. The women and children looked on, paralyzed with horror, and in momentary expectation of meeting a like fate. The savages chose to spare their lives, however, and took them a prisoners.
Death of Coleman
One of the women had a child about two weeks old. Being feeble and unable to walk, she was placed astride an old horse, and her feet were tied under him with a rope. They then gave her the child to carry in her arms. Next setting fire to the building they hurried off in a north-west direction over the Shawangunk mountain. The babe was restless, and cried; and the savages, fearing its wailing would guide the whites who might be upon their track, told the mother she must keep it still or they would kill it. The mother did all she could to calm the little one, but it would not be quieted. Then one of the savages rushed up to her side, tore the infant from her arms, and taking it by the heels knocked out its brains against a tree before her eyes, and threw it as far from the path as his strength would allow. There the body was left to be torn and devoured by wild beasts.
The party passed over the mountain, reaching the Mamakating valley a little after dusk. Here they rested a short interval; as soon as the moon rose they resumed their journey, traveling the remainder of that night, and a part of the next day. The journey through that night was gloomy and fearful. Even the little children, after the brutal murder of the babe, dare make no complaints. Like wandering ghosts in the uncertain light they pursued the broken path before them, occasionally startled by the howl of a wolf or the scream of a panther, their distress heightened and made more unbearable by the uncertainty of the fate that awaited them.
Day came at last to the weary and hapless wanderers, but it brought no revival of their drooping hearts. Their natural protectors, so recently murdered by the ruthless savage, and themselves prisoners entirely at his mercy-the condition of those widows and orphans was not calculated to revive the spirits. As the day advanced their physical sufferings increased, as, foot-sore and exhausted, they were urged at an accelerated pace by their inhuman captors.
The report of the tragedy soon spread throughout the neighboring settlements, and before Monday morning quite a number of the brave and sympathizing settlers had gathered about the Coleman cabin. The mangled bodies of the brothers, one of which had been brought in from the woods, where it had been found, and the charred embers of the log dwelling, all bore unmistakable evidence of the tragic event. The men were all armed with rifles and hunting-knives, and knew how to use them effectively; for the necessities of border life had skilled them in the use of those weapons.
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