Then the battle commenced and an almost incessant firing was kept up until night, Mrs. Schell assisting her husband and sons in loading the guns. Several times the attacks of the enemy were repelled. But when darkness had set in, McDonald, the leader of the Tories, succeeded in reaching the door of the cabin and attempted to force an entrance by using a crowbar he had found in front of the house. Suddenly a shot from Schell hit him in the leg and brought him down. Quick as lightning the bold German unbarred the door, grasped the wounded man and dragged him in a prisoner, thus saving the house from being set fire to, for in such a case the leader of the attacking party within, would likewise have perished in the flames.
Enraged by the capture of their leader, the enemy made several furious assaults. Jumping close to the house, they thrust their guns through the loop-holes and began to fire into the building. But Mrs. Schell, cool and courageous, seized an axe and by well-directed blows spoiled every gun by destroying the barrels. As the men opened a terrific fire from above at the same time, the besiegers fell back in a hurry, and the following morning disappeared, having suffered a loss of twenty-three dead and wounded.
Another example of noble-spirited womanhood is that of Elizabeth Zane, a young girl of seventeen years, living near Fort Henry in West Virginia. When in November, 1782, the fort was besieged by several hundred Indians and the little garrison of forty-two men had been reduced to only twelve, the situation became extremely desperate, as the supply of powder was nearly exhausted.
There was a full keg of powder hidden in the cabin of the Zanes, but this hut stood some ninety yards from the gate of the fort and could be reached only by passing the whole distance under fire of the Indians, a feat which seemed altogether hopeless. But the perilous attempt had to be made. When the commander of the fort called for volunteers, several responded, among them, to the general surprise, Elizabeth Zane. She argued that the garrison of the fort was already too weak for the life of one of the soldiers to be risked. As her own life was of no importance, she claimed the privilege of attempting the dangerous task. Refusing to listen to any objection, Miss Zane slipped out of the gate and strolled leisurely to her home, as though there were no redskins in the whole world. The Indians, wondering what it meant, made no attempt to molest the girl.
Entering the cabin, she found the keg of powder, and a few minutes later reappeared with the keg concealed under a tablecloth. Not before the girl had gone some distance did the Indians realize the meaning of the girl’s mission and at once opened a brisk fire on her. But the girl sped with the fleetness of a fawn and reached the fort in safety amid a shower of bullets, several of which passed through her clothes. By this daring act the little garrison was so inspired and fought with such tenacity that the Indians despaired of capturing the fort and finally retreated.—
In 1787 John Merrill, a settler in Nelson County, Kentucky, was awakened one night by the furious barking of his dogs. Opening the door of his cabin to reconnoitre, he was shot by several Indians, but managed to bar the door, before sinking dead to the floor. His wife, a woman of great energy and strength, jumped out of bed, grasped a large axe and sprang forward to be prepared for the coming attack. Scarcely had she reached the door when the Indians began to chop it down with their tomahawks. But as soon as the savages sought to enter the breach, the woman, making a terrific effort, killed or badly wounded four of the enemy.
Foiled in their attempt to force the door, some of the redskins climbed onto the roof of the cabin and tried to enter by way of the chimney. But again the solitary woman confronted them. Snatching her featherbed and hastily ripping it open, she flung its contents upon the still glowing embers. At once a furious blaze and stifling smoke ascended the chimney, overcoming two of the Indians. Dazed, they fell down into the fire, where they were instantly dispatched with the axe. Then, with a quick side stroke, the woman inflicted a terrible gash in the cheek of the only remaining savage, whose head just appeared in the breach of the door. With a horrible yell the intruder withdrew, to be seen no more.
In Western Pennsylvania, in the year 1792, there stood some twenty-five miles from Pittsburgh the crude cabin of a settler, named Harbisson. One day, during his absence, the home was attacked by Indians, who, after ransacking the house, carried off the wife prisoner. But there were three children, two boys aged five and three respectively, and an infant. As the mother had no hand for the little fellow of three, one of the savages relieved her from this embarrassment by grasping the child, whirling it through the air and smashing his head against a tree. And when the older brother began to weep, his crying was stopped forever by cutting his throat. The mother fainted at the horrible sight, but the savages brought her back to consciousness again by giving her a few blows across the face. At night the poor woman noticed one of the savages busying himself with making two small hoops. The captive watched him with languid curiosity and saw that he had something in his hand. Then a flash of horror-struck recognition flickered in the woman’s eyes. She saw the bloody scalps of her children, which the savage was stretching on the hoops to dry. “Few mothers,” so the unfortunate woman said afterwards, “have been subjected to such dreadful trials. Those who did not see the scalps of their own children torn from their heads and handled in such a way, cannot imagine the horrible pain that tortured my heart!”
In the dark of the second night the poor mother managed to make her escape. It rained in torrents, but hugging the baby to her breast, she entered the endless forest and wandered the whole night and the next days, making her way to the settlements. She arrived there on the sixth day after incredible sufferings and almost starved. So changed was she by the many hardships, that her nearest neighbors failed to recognize her. The skin and flesh of her feet and legs was hanging in pieces, pierced by hundreds of thorns, some of which went through her feet and came out a long time afterwards at the top.—
