Mary Rowlandson
Essay title: Mary Rowlandson
Thursday, February 10, 1675/76 — A state of alertness prevailed in the town of Lancaster, Massachusetts. Its 50 families were always ready to crowd into the 5 or 6 garrison houses in case of an Amerindian attack. The continual war between King Philips forces and colonial troops made everyone aware of imminent danger. Joseph Rowlandson, minister to the small frontier town, was in Boston appealing, once again, to the colonial government for protection. His appeal fell on deaf ears; the danger from attack was rated as minor.
Amerindians who had been driven from their territory by colonial troops were in desperate need of supplies. Lancaster would have all that was needed and, being undermanned, would not be able to resist the attack effectively. Thus while Reverend Rowlandson appealed for aid, warriors attacked his home and family.
Sunrise: Thirty-seven people were housed in the Rowlandson garrison house. Abruptly gun shots were heard, three other houses were under attack. It was not long before the warriors turned to the Rowlandsons house. Amid a flurry of bullets, three men were killed. Suddenly the smell of smoke permeated the inside of the house; the attackers had succeeded in setting fire to it.
As the inhabitants came out, the warriors attacked them. Mrs. Rowlandson relates,
“Then I took Children (and one of my sisters, hers) to go forth and leave the house: but as soon as we came to the dore and appeared, the Indians shot so thick that the bulletts rattled against the House, as if one had taken an handfull of stones and threw them, so that we were fain to give back.” (p. 119, A Narrative of the Captivity and Restauration of Mrs. Mary Rowlandson)
Finally Mary Rowlandson was forced to leave the burning house. Immediately she saw her brother-in-law fall, dead from wounds; her nephew, whose leg was broken, killed, and her sister shot. All around her was carnage. She was shot through her side and the child she carried in her arms was struck by the same bullet. There were 13 killed and 24 taken captive. According to Mary Rowlandsons account,
“I had often before this said, that if the Indians should come, I should chuse rather to be killed by them then taken alive but when it came to the tryal my mind changed; their glittering weapons so daunted my spirit, that I chose rather to go along then that moment to end my days … .” (p. 121)
So began Mary Rowlandsons journey as a servant with her captors, a journey that would take her westward to the Connecticut River and northward into Vermont and New Hampshire and would last for almost three months.
Wounded in her side and carrying a wounded child, Mrs. Rowlandson began her arduous trek. For the first three days, there was nothing to eat, no roof over her head. At times a warrior carried the child; later she and the child were put up on a horse but she fell off because she couldnt ride bareback. Finally she and her feverish child were put up behind a warrior. On the fourth day, she met Robbert Pepper, a man captured during the ambush at Beers Plain in Northfield the previous September. He suggested she place oak leaves on her wounded side, a practice that had cured his own leg wound earlier. On February 18, Marys child died in her arms and was buried on a hillside by the Amerindians. Her other daughter now belonged to another warrior and she soon found out her son was in a nearby encampment. It seems that although she was a captive, the Amerindians did not prevent her seeing her children and gave her a Bible to read.
At the end of February, Mary Rowlandson and her master and mistress left the main body of warriors behind. She would not see her daughter again until she was ransomed. In March the small warrior band traveled on to the Millers River in Orange, Massachusetts, followed closely by a troop of English. Again, according to the Rowlandson account,
“… then they made a stop, and chose some of their stoutest men, and sent them back to hold the English Army in play whilst the rest escaped: And then, like Jehu, they marched on furiously, with their old, and with their young: some carried their old decrepit mothers, some carried one, and some another.” (p. 130)
When the group reached the Millers River (Baquaug), everyone fell to cutting dry trees to make rafts to cross the river. Mrs. Rowlandson rejoiced that she was able to cross without getting even a foot wet on that very cold day.
When Mary Rowlandson was first captured she felt she simply could not eat Amerindian food,
“The first week of my being among them, I hardly ate anything; the second week,