The Jimmyjohns, and other stories

by Abby Morton Diaz

“Florinda spent the day in spinning and in other work for the family. As soon as it began to grow dark, Mrs. Moore sent her little boy over to inquire. Florinda sent word back that Philip had not come, but that she expected him every minute, and that she should wait until he did come before going over to Mrs. Moore’s.

“After the boy had gone back, Florinda barred the door, and shut all the window-shutters but one. She left that open, so that Philip might see the firelight shining through. The children began to cry because Philip was out all alone in the dark woods; and Florinda did every thing she could to take up their minds. Nathaniel told afterward of her rolling up the cradle-quilt into a baby for little Polly, and pinning an apron on it; and of her setting him letters to copy on the bellows with chalk. He said she tied a strip of cloth round his head to keep the hair out of his eyes when he bent over to make the letters. He remembered her telling them stories about the people in France, of their out-door dancings and their grape-pickings; and that, to amuse them, she took from her clothes-box a spangled work-bag that was made in France; and then took out a funny high-crowned cap her mother used to wear, and put the cap on her own head to make them laugh; and that, when little Polly wanted a cap too, she twisted up a handkerchief into the shape of a cap for her; and he remembered her stopping her wheel very often to listen for Philip. He always spoke of Florinda, as a sprightly, bright-eyed girl, who was pleasing both in her looks and her manners.

“At last little Polly fell asleep, and was placed on the bed. Nathaniel laid his head on Florinda’s lap, and dropped asleep there, and slept till she got up to put more wood on. It was then nearly twelve o’clock. He woke in a fright, and crying. He had been dreaming about wolves.

“In the midst of his crying there came a tap at the door. Florinda made no answer. Then a voice said, ‘’St, ’st’ Still she made no answer. Then the voice said softly, ’Florinda!’ It was the young man David Palmer, Mrs. Moore’s brother. He had crawled all the way from the other house to see if they were safe, and ask if they would not come over. Florinda said no; that it would soon be morning; that she had plenty of work to do, and that she was not afraid: the Indians had always been kind to the family, and the family to them. The young man told her that what had happened in far-off neighborhoods might happen there; that, at any rate, the window-shutter ought to be shut to keep the light from shining out, in case any Indians passed through the woods; and that, when Philip got within half a mile of the house, he could keep his course by the brook. Florinda closed the shutter. He pointed to a knot-hole in the shutter, and she hung a shawl over it. Then he dried his fur mittens a few minutes longer at the blaze, and went back to stay with his sister.

“When the young man had been gone a little while, Nathaniel climbed up and looked through the knot-hole, and told Florinda he saw a fire in the woods. Florinda said she thought not; that maybe it was the moon rising; and kept on with her spinning. By and by he looked again, and said he did see a fire, and some Indians sitting down by it. Florinda left her wheel then, and looked through, and said yes, it was so. She kept watch afterward, and saw them put out the fire, and go away into the woods toward the Point. She told Nathaniel of this, and then held him in her arms and sang songs, low, in a language he could not understand. By this time the night was far spent.

“On the back-side of the hut, near the fireplace, there had been in the summer a hole or tunnel dug through to the outside under the logs. It was begun by a tame rabbit that belonged to Nathaniel. The rabbit burrowed out, and got away. The children at play dug the hole deeper and wider, and it came quite handy in getting in firewood. This passage was about four feet deep. They called it the back doorway. When winter came on, it was filled up with sand and moss. Florinda thought it well to be prepared for any thing which might happen; and therefore she spent the latter part of that night in taking the filling from the back doorway. The outer part was frozen hard, and had to be thawed with hot water. When this was done, she took the work-bag out of her clothes-box, and put into it Mr. Bowen’s papers and the teaspoons (among the papers were deeds of property in England). Little Polly waked and cried, and both children complained of being hungry. There were a few handfuls of meal left. Florinda baked it into a cake, and divided it between them. She said a great deal to Nathaniel about taking care of little Polly; told him, that, if any bad Indians came to the door, he must catch hold of her hand, and run just as quick as he could, through the back way, to Mrs. Moore’s. Her chief care, then and afterward, seemed to be for the children. And, when danger came in earnest, she made no attempt to save herself: her only thought was to save them.

“While she was talking to Nathaniel in the way I have said, they heard a step outside. It was then a little after daybreak. Some one tapped at the door; and a strange voice said, ‘A friend; open quick!’ She opened the door, and found a white man standing there. This white man told her that unfriendly Indians were prowling about to rob, to kill, and to burn dwelling-houses, and that several were known to be in that very neighborhood. The man was a messenger sent to warn people. He could not stop a moment. This was on the morning of the 1st of January. As soon as the man had gone, Florinda double-barred the door, raked ashes over the fire, put on her things and the children’s things, and got ready to go with them over to Mrs. Moore’s. She made up several bundles; gave one to each of the children, and took one herself. But, before starting, she opened the shutter a crack, and looked out; and there she saw two Indians coming toward the door. She flung down her bundle; snatched the children’s away from them; hung the work-bag round Nathaniel’s neck, whispering to him, ‘Run, run! you’ll have time; I’ll keep them out till you get away!’ all the while pulling at the clothes-chest. He heard the Indians yell, and saw Florinda brace herself against the door, with her feet on the chest. ‘Run, run!’ she kept saying. ‘Take care of little Polly! don’t let go of little Polly!’

“Nathaniel ran with little Polly; and on the way they met the young man, David Palmer, creeping along with his gun. He had got the news, and had come to tell Florinda to hurry away. Just at that moment he heard the yells of the Indians, and the sound of their clubs beating in the door. David Palmer said afterward, that it seemed to him he never should reach that house: and, when he had almost reached it, his gun failed him; or rather his hands failed to hold it. He started without his mittens; and his fingers were stiff and numb from creeping over the frozen snow.

“He threw the gun down, and went on just as fast as a man could in such a condition, and presently saw two Indians start from the house, and run into the woods, dropping several things on the way,—stolen articles, some of which were afterward found. He listened a moment, and heard dogs barking; then crept round the corner of the house. The door had been cut away. Florinda lay across the chest, dead, as he thought; and indeed she was almost gone. They had beaten her on the head with a hatchet or a club. One blow more, and Florinda would never have breathed again. David Palmer did every thing he could do to make her show some signs of life; and was so intent upon this, that he paid no attention to the barking of the dogs, and did not notice that it was growing louder, and coming nearer every moment. Happening to glance toward the door, he saw a man on horseback, riding very slowly toward the house, leading another horse with his right hand, and with his left drawing something heavy on a sled. The man on horseback was Mr. Moore. He was leading Mr. Bowen’s horse with his right hand, and with the other he was dragging Mr. Bowen on Philip’s hand-sled.”

“Philip?” cried two or three. “Did he come?”