She was a witness of the terrible massacre at Fort Griswold, in Groton, on the sixth of September; and the following morning she hurried off to the scene of carnage, a distance of three miles, to search for an uncle who was among the brave defenders. She found him among the fatally wounded: at his request that he might see his wife and child before he died, she ran home, caught and saddled a horse for the feeble mother, and taking the child in her arms, carried it the whole distance, that it might receive the kisses and benediction of its dying father!
In the month of July, 1813 a blockading fleet appeared off the harbor of New London; and on the thirteenth, demonstrations were noticed of an intention to attack the place. Intense excitement now prevailed not only in New London, but in all the adjacent towns. Fort Griswold was once more occupied; small cannon—all to be had—were planted, and every preparation possible was made for a vigorous defence. The greatest deficiency was in flannel for cartridges; and in the emergency a messenger was dispatched to the village to consult with Mrs. Bailey on the most expeditious method of obtaining a supply. She promptly offered to see that each family was visited, and the wants of the soldiery made known. This was done, and each individual in the neighborhood cheerfully presented her and her co-laborers whatever of the desired articles could be spared, some in garments and some in the raw material. When these were delivered to the messenger, and there was still found a deficiency, she slyly slipped an under garment from her own person and charged him to give that to the British. As the enemy did not deem it expedient to make an attack, it is difficult to tell what aid that garment rendered; nor does it matter: its patriotic surrender showed the noble spirit which has always actuated "mother Bailey," and was an appropriation for her country which never caused her a blush.[8]
ELIZABETH HEARD.
Kindness has resistless charms.
Rochester.
Why should'st thou faint? Heaven smiles above,
Though storm and vapor intervene.
Park Benjamin.
Mrs. Elizabeth Heard, "a widow of good estate, a mother of many children and a daughter of Mr. Hull, a revered minister formerly living at Pisquataqua," was among the sufferers from captivity by the Indians in the latter part of the seventeenth century. She was taken at the destruction of Major Waldron's garrison in Dover, New Hampshire, about 1689. She was permitted to escape on account of a favor which she had shown a young Indian thirteen years before—she having secreted him in her house on the "calamitous day," in 1676, when four hundred savages were surprised in Dover.[9]
Having been suffered to escape, writes the Rev. John Pike, minister at Dover, to Dr. Cotton Mather, "she soon after safely arrived at Captain Gerish's garrison, where she found a refuge from the storm. Here she also had the satisfaction to understand that her own garrison, though one of the first that was assaulted, had been bravely defended and successfully maintained against the enemy. This gentlewoman's garrison was on the most extreme frontier of the province, and more obnoxious than any other, and therefore incapable of being relieved. Nevertheless, by her presence and courage it held out all the war, even for ten years together; and the persons in it have enjoyed very eminent preservations. It would have been deserted if she had accepted offers that were made her by her friends to abandon it and retire to Portsmouth among them, which would have been a damage to the town and land."