A Narrative of the Life of Mrs. Mary Jemison — John Shaqi
A Narrative of the Life of Mrs. Mary JemisonSeaver, James E. (James Everett)
History
A Narrative of the Life of Mrs. Mary Jemison
Seaver, James E. (James Everett)
Jemison, Mary, 1743-1833; Seneca Indians
At length a scouting party from Sullivan's army arrived at the spot
selected, when the Indians arose from their ambush with all the
fierceness and terror that it was possible for them to exercise, and
directly put the party upon a retreat. Two Oneida Indians were all the
prisoners that were taken in that skirmish. One of them was a pilot of
Gen. Sullivan, and had been very active in the war, rendering to the
people of the states essential services. At the commencement of the
revolution he had a brother older than himself, who resolved to join the
British service, and endeavored by all the art that he was capable of
using to persuade his brother to accompany him; but his arguments proved
abortive. This went to the British, and that joined the American army.
At this critical juncture they met, one in the capacity of a conqueror,
the other in that of a prisoner; and as an Indian seldom forgets a
countenance that he has seen, they recognized each other at sight.
Envy and revenge glared in the features of the conquering savage, as he
advanced to his brother (the prisoner) in all the haughtiness of
Indian pride, heightened by a sense of power, and addressed him in the
following manner:
"Brother, you have merited death! The hatchet or the war-club shall
finish your career!--When I begged of you to follow me in the fortunes
of war, you was deaf to my cries--you spurned my entreaties!
"Brother! you have merited death and shall have your deserts! When the
rebels raised their hatchets to fight their good master, you sharpened
your knife, you brightened your rifle and led on our foes to the fields
of our fathers'--You have merited death and shall die by our hands! When
those rebels had drove us from the fields of our fathers to seek out
new homes, it was you who could dare to step forth as their pilot, and
conduct them even to the doors of our wigwams, to butcher our children
and put us to death! No crime can be greater!--But though you have
merited death and shall die on this spot, my hands shall not be stained
in the blood of a brother! _Who will strike_?"
Little Beard, who was standing by, as soon as the speech was ended,
struck the prisoner on the head with his tomahawk, and despatched him at
once!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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