Captivity of Mrs. Coleman
page 3
From Sunday afternoon until Tuesday forenoon the party did not partake of a morsel of food. The Indians had brought no provision with them, and were afraid to fire their guns, fearing to expose their position to the whites. Before noon on Tuesday a deer was shot, and their appetite appeased. During their fight they came successively to the Neversink and the Delaware rivers; in crossing these streams the Indians would drive the horse, with Mrs. Coleman on his back, in advance of the others, to measure the depth. But the grief of the poor woman at the death of her husband and child, her anxiety for her remaining children and her present fatigue and sufferings, rendered her in a measure insensible to the danger of being submerged.
On Thursday evening they arrived at an Indian village some fifty miles beyond the Delaware river. Their journey over mountains, and through the trackless woods was terminated, but not so their sufferings. After the customary rejoicing at the success and safe return of the warriors, a large fire was kindled, and the people of the village assembled. The captive white children were stripped naked, and then compelled to run around the fire, the savages following them with whips, which they applied to their naked bodies without mercy. When the children screamed with pain and affright, their tormentors would exhibit the greatest satisfaction, and yell and laugh until the woods rang with hideous mirth. In this cruel amusement the Indian boys participated with evident relish.
While this was going on it seemed to Mrs. Coleman that her heart would break. She was unable longer to endure the agonizing screams of her own children, as they were pursued and lashed about the fire. She knew she was powerless to do them any good, so she resolved to flee to some secluded spot, where, out of reach of the Indians, she could quietly lie down and die. Stealing away softly and quietly until out of their sight, she ran as fast as her limbs would carry her. Presently she discovered a light in the distance, and by an unaccountable impulse, she resolved to go to it, not caring whether she lived or died. Here she found an old squaw who occupied a wigwam by herself. This squaw had lived among the white people, could speak their language tolerably well, and was known as Peter Nell-a name probably a corruption of Petronella, given her in baptism by the Moravians. To her Mrs. Coleman applied in her extremity. The womanly heart of the squaw was touched. She received her white sister kindly; assured her that the Indians should do her no further harm; and making her a bed of leaves and bear-skins, bade her rest until she could prepare some proper nourishment.
Peter Nell-a name probably a corruption of Petronella, given her in baptism by the Moravians. To her Mrs. Coleman applied in her extremity. The womanly heart of the squaw was touched. She received her white sister kindly; assured her that the Indians should do her no further harm; and making her a bed of leaves and bear-skins, bade her rest until she could prepare some proper nourishment. This kind-hearted daughter of the forest presently came with a dish of venison soup prepared after the manner of the white people, which proved very refreshing to the sick and exhausted captive. The latter remained with her benefactor until her health was completely restored, when the squaw rendered her still further service by assisting her to return to her friends in Orange county.
The fate of the other captives is unknown. It was many years afterwards reported that two of them escaped, but of this there is no certainty.
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