XVIII. Story Of Mary Jemison.
Years ago, when I was a small boy, some one pointed out to me the “old white woman's spring,” and told me a part of the story of Mary Jemison.
In the year 1742 or 1743 an Irishman named Thomas Jemison, with his wife and three children, left his own country for America, on a ship called the William and Mary. On the voyage a little girl was born into the family, to whom they gave the name of Mary. She had a light, clear skin, blue eyes, and yellow or golden hair. After landing at Philadelphia, the family soon moved to Marsh Creek (Pennsylvania), which was then in the far West and quite in the Indian country. There Thomas Jemison had a farm, built a comfortable house, and by industry prospered. In the new home two younger children were born, both boys.
In 1754 they moved to a new farm, where they lived in a log house. Here they spent [pg 123] the winter. Spring came, and every one was busy in the fields. It was the time of the French and Indian wars against the English. A number of attacks had been made upon settlers. One day Mary was sent to a neighbor's for a horse; she was to spend the night, returning in the morning. At that time some strangers were living at Mary's house—a man, his sister-in-law, and her three little children. Mary had secured the horse for which she had been sent, and had ridden home in the early morning. As she reached the house, the man took the horse and rode off to get some grain, taking with him his gun, in case he should see some game. Every one about the house was busy. Mary, years afterward, told the story of what then took place:
“Father was shaving an ax-helve at the side of the house; mother was making preparations for breakfast; my two oldest brothers were at work near the barn; and the little ones, with myself and the woman and her three children, were in the house. Breakfast was not yet ready, when we were alarmed by the discharge of a number of guns that seemed to be near. Mother and the woman before mentioned almost fainted at the report, and every one trembled with fear. On opening the door, the man and horse lay dead near the house, having just been shot by the Indians. I was afterward informed that the Indians discovered him at his own [pg 124] house with his gun, and pursued him to father's, where they shot him as I have related. They first secured my father, and then rushed into the house and without the least resistance made prisoners of my mother, brothers, and sister, the woman, her three children, and myself.... My two brothers Thomas and John, being at the barn, escaped.”
The party which had seized them was composed of six Shawnee Indians and four Frenchmen. The first day was terrible. They were kept rapidly marching until night; they had no food or water during the whole day. One Indian went behind the party with a whip, with which he lashed the little ones to make them keep up with the party. At night there was no fire and they had no covering. They were afoot again before daylight, but as the sun rose, stopped and ate breakfast. The second night they camped near a dark and dreary swamp, and here they were given supper, but were too tired and sad to care much for food. After supper, an Indian stripped off Mary's shoes and stockings and began putting moccasins upon her. The same thing was done to the woman's little boy. Noticing this, Mary's mother believed the Indians intended to spare the two children. She said to the girl:
“My dear little Mary, I fear the time has arrived when we must be parted forever. Your life, I think, will be spared; but we shall probably [pg 125] be tomahawked here in this lonesome place, by the Indians. Alas! my dear, my heart bleeds at the thought of what awaits you; but if you leave us, remember your name, and the names of your father and mother. Be careful and not forget your English tongue. If you shall have an opportunity to get away from the Indians, don't try to escape; for if you do, they will find and destroy you. Don't forget, my little daughter, the prayers that I have learned you; say them often; be a good child, and God will bless you. May God bless you, my child, and make you comfortable and happy.”
Just then an Indian took Mary and the little boy by the hand and led them away. As they parted, the mother called out to the child, who was crying bitterly, “Don't cry, Mary! Don't cry, my child! God will bless you! Farewell, farewell!”
The Indian took the children into the woods, where they lay down to sleep. The little boy begged Mary to try to escape, but she remembered her mother's warning. The next morning the other Indians and the Frenchmen rejoined them, but their white captives were not with them. During the night, in that dark and dismal swamp, Mary's father and mother, Robert, Matthew, and Betsey, the woman, and two of her children had been killed, scalped, and fearfully mangled. When they camped again, Mary saw with horror the Indians at work upon the scalps of her parents.
A fourth and fifth day the party journeyed on, and then, driven by bad weather, camped for three nights in one place. Finally the party came near Fort Du Quesne, where Pittsburg now stands. They had been joined by other Indians who had a young white man prisoner. When they reached this place, the Indians carefully combed the hair of the three prisoners, and painted their faces and hair with red as Indians do.
The next morning after they reached the fort, the little boy and young man were given to the French. Mary was given to two young Seneca women. By them she was taken to their town some distance down the Ohio River. Here they washed her and dressed her nicely in Indian clothing. They publicly adopted her in place of a brother who had just been killed. These women and their brothers were kind to Mary, treating her as their real sister, and she came to love them dearly. She was with them for three winters and two summers on the Ohio River, when, at their wish, she married a Delaware Indian named Shenanjie. He was a good husband, but died when they had been married but two or three years.
We will tell but one more incident in Mary's life. Not long after marrying Shenanjie, she moved with her sisters and their brothers to the Genesee Valley in New York. The wars were now over. Mary was a young widow with a little son. The King of England offered a bounty to [pg 127] any one who would find white prisoners among the Indians and bring them in to the forts to be redeemed. A Dutchman named Van Sice, who knew that Mary was a captive, determined to take her to the fort and get his bounty. Mary learned of his plan, but had no wish to leave the Indians. She was afraid of the man. One day, when she was working in the field alone, she saw him coming to seize her. He chased her, but she escaped and hid herself for three days and nights. The Indian council then decided that she could not be taken back against her wish, and her fear of Van Sice ceased.
But she had a more dangerous enemy. An old chief of the tribe determined himself to return her and get the bounty. He told one of Mary's Indian brothers of his intention to take her to Niagara to be redeemed. A quarrel took place between the two men, and her brother declared that he would kill her with his own hand before he would allow the old man to carry her off against her will. This threat he made known to his own sister. She at once told Mary to flee with her babe and hide in some weeds near the house. She also told Mary that at night their brother would return, informed of the old chief's plans, and that if the sachem persisted in carrying her off, he would surely kill her. The woman told her, after it was dark to creep up to the house, and if she found nothing near the door, to come in, as all would be safe. Should she, however, [pg 128] find a cake there, she must flee. Poor Mary hid in the weeds with her baby boy; at night, when all was still, she crept up to the house; the little cake was there! Taking it, she fled to the spring now called, for that reason, “the white woman's spring.” Her sister had suggested the place. That night the old chief came to the house to get Mary, and her brother sought her to kill her, but neither could find her. The old sachem gave up the hunt and set out for Niagara with his other prisoners. After he was gone, and the excitement was past, Mary's sister told her brother where Mary was hidden. He went there, and at finding her, greeted her kindly and brought her home.
James E. Seaver has written the story of Mary Jemison as she told it to him in her old age. The name of the book is The Life of Mary Jemison: the White Woman of the Genesee.